


Smithereens and the Reassembly Thereof

by LTRisBACK



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale loves Crowley, Aziraphale whump, Based on Whiteley's amazing art, Brain Damage, Broken Bones, Crowley loves Aziraphale, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel is Awful, Gen, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Injured Aziraphale, Major Character Injury, Other, Seizures, crowley feels guilty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LTRisBACK/pseuds/LTRisBACK
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale thought they were safe, mostly.  They at least thought they had more time before anything happened again.  They underestimated the wrath that had been enflamed against them.ORA hurt/comfort slow healing fic based on Whiteley Foster's amazing artwork.  Please mind the tags, they will get updated as we go along.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 164
Kudos: 197
Collections: Hurt Aziraphale, Tip Top Stories





	1. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteleyFoster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts).



> So I saw Whiteley Foster's amazing picture [WhiteleyFoster on Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBgTfEoFuOg/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet) and wanted to do something amazing for it, and for them, since they are such an amazing artist. So I sat down at my keyboard and started to write. 
> 
> Many thanks to the aceomens discord server, and especially to my wonderful beta, slateblueflowers! This story would not make half as much sense, or be half as written, without all of you. 
> 
> I hope you like it, please feel free to drop a comment on your way out, but please, I'm not taking advice at this time, EXCEPT FOR TAGS. If you see something you think should be tagged, SAY SOMETHING PLEASE. I don't want to be triggering people.

Gabriel was fuming. How dare Michael? They hadn’t been in charge in almost a millennia! How dare they just step up and say that Gabriel wasn’t doing a good enough job and they were taking back command? Michael had informed Gabriel that he was to be demoted, not even just put in charge of the legions instead. They went on and on, sanctimoniously, about how it was all his own fault, that he knew well where the blame lay.

Oh, Gabriel knew who was to blame, alright. That pathetic, overly indulgent little principality. He shivered involuntarily at the memory of Aziraphale breathing Hellfire towards him, then stiffened his shoulders. He knew Aziraphale. He was a shrinking, nervous angel – Gabriel had always made sure to remind him of the inappropriateness of his actions, after all. To keep him on edge and unsure of his position. Not that he could have actually replaced the Principality – no one else wanted a long-term earth assignment! To sully their vessels by prolonged association with humans! Humans, other than the wonderful clothes they made, were disgusting. Gabriel despised them. He had been very happy with the part of Armageddon that was supposed to wipe them all out. (He conveniently ignored the fact that refusing to love the humans was precisely what caused his brother to Fall.) 

Well, Gabriel would have his revenge. Maybe he couldn’t destroy the lesser angel, but he could discorporate him. With that, Aziraphale would be easily recalled and stuck in Heaven at his mercy, unable to return to his beloved Earth. The Archangel bared his teeth in a feral grin. He wouldn’t even use miracles to accomplish it, he decided. Nice, messy human methods were good for some things, after all.

~~~@@@~~~

Aziraphale smiled softly and snuggled under Crowley’s chin where they sat together on the couch. The demon tightened his arms around him and dropped a soft kiss on the crown of his head. 

“So, we’ll leave about ten tomorrow? Go have a look at some cottages, nose around a village or two, have a nice cream tea somewhere and a good pub lunch?” the demon offered, his voice soft and tempting. 

“Yes, love,” Aziraphale nodded against his chest. “It’ll be good to get out of London, I suppose.” His tone was unsure, but Aziraphale really did want to go live in a cottage in the countryside, he was just also set in his ways. 

“You’re not shutting the shop, remember,” Crowley encouraged. “You’ll just make your opening hours even harder to understand. You like that. And if, over time, you decide to just move all your books out to the South Downs…I’m sure we can come up with the appropriate miracle to create a library for you.” He knew it was hard. His angel struggled with change, and there had been so much of it in the world for the last hundred years, even before you counted the events of the apocadidn’t. The shop had been Aziraphale’s first real nest, real home outside of Heaven, if Heaven even counted and Crowley was quite sure that it did not. He wasn’t going to push his Angel to give it up, but he did want the two of them to build a nest together. And really, as much as Aziraphale loved his books, he didn’t love being a shopkeeper. Oh, it amused him sometimes to exercise his bastardry against the humans, foiling their plots to buy his precious books. It amused Crowley to watch, and he certainly wouldn’t mind continuing to do so for as long as his angel felt the need to keep the shop. 

“I know,” Aziraphale nodded. “I want to do this, Crowley, I do. It will be truly lovely to have our own little place, just ours and no one else’s. And a place that They don’t know about, too.” 

Crowley nodded. They may be moderately sure that their respective former employers would not be dropping by anytime soon, but that did not negate the fact that Heaven and Hell knew where to find them. Crowley had actually already moved his plants to the shop, and moved in completely, allowing them both the security of knowing where the other was. Before that had happened Crowley had found Aziraphale in the middle of more than one panic attack when he had arrived late for a walk or a meal. Aziraphale, thinking Crowley had been taken again, justifiably panicked violently. Crowley was quite eager never to see him like that again. 

So now they sat, tumblers of whiskey being toyed with but not seriously consumed, and enjoyed each other’s company in a way they had never been able to before. It was glorious, really, to just BE together, without the constant stress and strain of worrying about getting caught. 

~~~@@@~~~

It had been a lovely day. They had visited several truly delightful cottages, and decided on one that ticked all of their boxes, with a delightful garden, a joyfully sunny interior, a glass conservatory and a beautiful library. It barely fit the description of ‘cottage’, but that was alright. 

Now, they sat down to a beautiful afternoon tea, with proper clotted cream, large fluffy scones and a delightful selection of jams. Crowley smiled and sat back as he watched Aziraphale savour the treats, occasionally sipping on his own cup of tea or, even more occasionally, taking a nibble from the scone in front of him.

The sun beamed down on them where they sat at the table set on the edge of the village green, and Crowley relaxed under its rays with a contented hiss. This was truly lovely. His angel was content, the tea was perfectly brewed, the sun delightful. All in all, an excellent day out. 

~~~@@@~~~

Gabriel hadn’t been able to believe his luck when, on his first day of scoping out the bookshop, he saw Aziraphale and the demon leaving in a ridiculous automobile. From what he had overheard, they seemed to be planning to make a day of whatever they were doing, so he had time to get into the shop, lay his trap, and get out again. 

He let himself into the shop, gazing around at the wealth of material goods Aziraphale had chosen to bog himself down with in disgust. While some things that humans created were lovely (he unconsciously smoothed a hand down his coat) they were in general not worth the time, and the things humans insisted on surrounding themselves with certainly weren't worth all of the care Aziraphale seemed to lavish upon them. 

Gabriel scowled as he looked around. He had thought, when he realised that Aziraphale was building something like a nest, that he was doing it for Gabriel. He had been horrified, but at the same time rather flattered, as it only made sense since he knew that the principality very rarely saw angels other than Gabriel. He'd thought about how he would turn the other down when the topic finally came up, but somehow it never did. He hadn't understood the nesting until he saw Aziraphale with the demon Crowley, and then it was suddenly far too clear. He was embarrassed that he had ever thought Aziraphale was interested in him, to have entertained the idea of Aziraphale wanting him. 

Now he looked around the shop, trying to decide the best place to leave his little surprise. Behind the counter? Did Aziraphale sit there? Or somewhere else? Under a shelf? Really, it ought to be powerful enough that location did not matter. 

Finally he decided on a shelf approximately halfway between the back room counter, slipping the innocuous looking thing underneath where it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone entering the shop. 

Package delivered, Gabriel exited the shop and made his way swiftly to a nearby apartment, where he could conceal himself until he knew it was done. 

~~~@@@~~~

Aziraphale was laughing at something Crowley said as they exited the Bentley, and the demon rounded the back of the car, draping an arm over the Angel’s shoulders as they made their (rather swaying) way up to the front door of the bookshop. 

“Shall we go upstairs, my dear? You seem tired, and I’m more than happy to read in bed,” offered Aziraphale, sounding far more sober than he had been, although Crowley had not felt any miracles. 

“Yeah, Angel, let’s take a nightcap upstairs,” Crowley agreed. They meandered through the shop to the back room, neither of them wanting to give up the physical contact they were now able to enjoy. Aziraphale fumbled around on a shelf for a moment, and came out with a very dusty bottle and two very clean glasses. 

“There we go, all sorted.” They had made it back to the front of the shop, heading for the stairs, when, between one second and the next, the world devolved into heat, light and sound. They were flung violently through the air, everything dissolving into roaring. Books and chunks of wood and shards of glass and ceramic exploded in every direction. 

Crowley managed to tighten his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders, keeping them connected, as they were flung sideways through the glass windows and out into the street. As they were flung and tumbled Aziraphale managed to maneuver things to take the brunt of the fall, ending with Crowley resting on top of him in the middle of the street. 

“Aziraphale? Angel?” Crowley raised his head, trying to make sense of the series of events, only to look down into Aziraphale’s slack features, his face streaked in blood and grime, eyes closed and mouth falling slightly open. It wasn’t a look Crowley was used to seeing on his angel, given his general attitude towards sleep. A moment of panic gripped him, only for a rough sounding breath to reassure him that his angel had not, in fact, been discorporated. 

Still, what had happened? Crowley’s mind couldn’t seem to quite click into gear and spit out the answers as to what had gone on. He pushed himself up with his hands, glancing around, seeing the evidence of an explosion all around them, but nothing made sense. This wasn’t the Blitz, and they weren’t in the middle of the Troubles or the Middle East. Who would bomb a bookshop in Soho? 

Before he could get any further in his confusion, a laugh drew his attention down the street, and he found both the energy and strength to push himself up so he was crouched over Aziraphale, ready to defend his angel to the death. The archangel-fucking-Gabriel was standing there looking far too self-satisfied. 

“Well, well,” Gabriel smirked. “Both of you! I never thought I’d have the good luck to get both of you.” 

Gabriel’s choice not to undertake any observation before action had clearly left him wrong-footed. If he had watched the bookshop for even a single full day before enacting his plan, rather than rushing in when the opportunity had presented itself that morning, he would have known that Crowley was living in the bookshop now. 

Crowley’s mind was now picking up speed, in the way that a steam train starts moving – slowly at first, then building momentum until it is thundering down the track. He didn’t move much, just a shift of a few millimeters until he was sure his right hand was not in contact with his angel, and then he began to summon up hellfire. Whatever the archangel had in mind, Crowley was not going to make it easy for him. Aziraphale was his, now, only his, damn it! 

The hellfire answered Crowley’s call eagerly, and he had to be exceptionally careful to keep it away from Aziraphale as he brought it up his right arm. His eyes flashed with the occult power, and he felt the flames dance along his shoulders. 

Gabriel drew back, eyes wide, as Crowley pushed himself upright, standing above his fallen angel, hellfire dancing along his shoulders and flashing in his eyes. 

“We told you to leave ussss alone,” Crowley hissed, feeling his fangs drop down and hearing the elongated esses in his speech. “You should have listened.” He lashed out with the fire, being sure to direct it from his palm, not wanting to put the image of both of them breathing it in the Archangel’s mind and accidentally hint at how they had survived their attempted executions. 

Gabriel jumped back, away from the long tongue of hellfire that Crowley had sent straight for him, not pulling any punches. Glancing down at the gray-faced angel on the ground, sure his corporation couldn’t hold out much longer, the Archangel decided not to stay and put up a fight. Crowley was Beelzebub’s problem, after all, not his. They could deal with him as they saw fit, once Aziraphale was imprisoned in Heaven for his crimes. Turning his face upwards, he focussed his attention and ascended back to Heaven. 

Once the immediate threat was gone, Crowley stepped over Aziraphale’s body and quickly released the Hellfire back into the ground. As soon as the last tongue of flame had been absorbed by the nearby asphalt he whirled back to Aziraphale, dropping to his knees. 

“Angel?” The only response was another rasping breath, and Crowley felt panic curdling his stomach. If Aziraphale discorporated now and Gabriel could drag his ethereal form to Heaven, he wasn’t sure how he would get him back. He had to keep his corporation alive.


	2. Picking up the pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley does his best to keep Aziraphale's corporation alive, with mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a medical professional, although I have some medical training. What I have portrayed here is almost definitely not going to be completely accurate. However, since we are already suspending disbelieve in order to accept injuries to the physical bodies of ethereal and occult beings, I think that we'll be alright, really. Hope you enjoy, please leave a comment on your way out! Thank you to all those who left comments/kudos on the first chapter, it means...more than you can know.

Crowley started to run his hands over Aziraphale’s form, feeling for anything that was obviously wrong - odd lumps, blood, or squishy places. The most obvious wound was a large gash on Aziraphale’s scalp, not far from his temple, and Crowley quickly miracled up a dressing to stop the bleeding. He also applied a miracle to keep his Angel’s neck from moving, to prevent any spinal injury from virtually decapitating Aziraphale before he could even assess his other injuries. 

There were a few places where Crowley could feel blood seeping through Aziraphale’s clothing, and one of his legs was definitely broken. Crowley wished, desperately, that the simple healing that Aziraphale could deal out so easily was a gift he shared. He had just finished checking Aziraphale for injuries when he heard the first siren, and now he had to make a choice. If they stayed here, the humans would take them both to hospital, where they would, most likely, be able to treat their injuries. However, Crowley had never been examined by a human doctor and he didn’t even know if Aziraphale was making an effort at the moment. If he wasn’t, that would be awkward. He didn’t, habitually. Neither of them cared for the activities that went with efforts, so they generally didn’t bother. 

They couldn’t stay here to be found by the authorities, but he wasn’t sure if it was safe to move Aziraphale. Glancing around the street, he took in the sight of the bookshop with growing horror. The shop...it was almost as bad as the fire had been. In fact, there were some flames licking around the edges, but the real damage was from the blast. The shop front had been entirely blown out, and paper littered the sidewalk and the street. The Bentley, sitting further down the street, had miraculously escaped any damage, but the bookshop and most of Aziraphale’s books were gone. 

Crowley bared his teeth in a snarl. Gabriel may not have succeeded in discorporating Aziraphale, but he had dealt the Principality a major blow. The destruction of his nest was going to hurt for a long time to come, and there was no convenient Antichrist to miracle up a replacement this time. 

Crowley shook his head and refocused his thoughts. He didn’t have time for this - he had to get Aziraphale out of here. Ignoring his own aches (and a few sharp pains) he carefully slid his arms underneath his angel and lifted, cradling him in a bridal carry. Crossing to the Bentley, a simple glare got his point across and the door swung open, even as the inside of the car carefully rearranged itself to provide a supportive, reclined seat for Aziraphale. He gently transferred the limp body to the car, and even knowing that Aziraphale did not, in fact, need to breathe didn’t make hearing the sound of his current rasping any easier to take. 

Once he was in the car he floored it, wanting to be well away from the bookshop before the human authorities arrived, but not really having much idea of where to go. He didn’t want to go to his own apartment, since clearly their former bosses had decided that they didn’t care about how they were indestructible and were going to move against them. 

After a few moments, he turned towards The Langham Hotel, where a booking for their best suite had miraculously appeared in his name. He was still going to have to get Aziraphale inside, but miracling a few humans not to notice wasn’t half as bad as trying to deal with the number of medical professionals who would be involved if they were in a hospital. 

He lifted Aziraphale into his arms again, snapped his fingers to lock the Bentley and prevent her from being towed, and carried his angel inside. He crossed the lobby with long, determined strides, keeping up a level of ‘don’t-notice-us’ that had every human head in the place turning in another direction, and into the lift. Despite the fact that this was The Langham and Crowley had not collected a key, there was now a key in his hand and no member of staff in the lift to stop him from taking the lift all the way to the top. 

Crowley carefully adjusted his grip on Aziraphale, easing the angel slightly higher on his shoulder. Aziraphale audibly groaned, and Crowley felt a tiny amount of his fear let go. If his angel was waking up, that meant he was further away from dying in Crowley’s arms, didn’t it? 

Soon enough, the lift deposited them into a small lobby. Crowley didn’t even bother trying the key, clicking the door open and leaving it to close behind him. He crossed the sitting room to the bedroom with quick strides and carefully laid Aziraphale down on the bed. 

Once the angel’s bloodied, unconscious form was laid on top of the duvet, Crowley took a moment to step back and consider what he needed to do. After a moment, he removed Aziraphale’s clothing via miracle and started to assess his condition. As he had noticed earlier, one of Aziraphale’s legs was very broken, but of more concern was the colour spreading rapidly over his ribs and the fact that they weren’t lifting in an even manner with Aziraphale’s gasping breaths. 

He laid a hand on Aziraphale’s chest and offered up a prayer to...somebody. He hadn’t ever tried to heal Aziraphale. He’d been able to heal humans when necessary, although there was always a price involved. He reached out, the way he would for a human, and felt for the injuries. 

There were so many. Crowley wasn’t actually sure how Aziraphale hadn’t discorporated yet, but he was absolutely determined in his belief that he would keep his angel here with him. With that in mind, and the knowledge that he had LIVED in that body, dammit, he started to work. 

He couldn’t heal everything, or even most. There was too much damage. Instead, he sought out the worst, the most life threatening injuries. A hole in the lung which was leaking air into the chest cavity was the cause of the uneven rise and fall of his chest. The hole was healed, and the air outside of the lung miracled away. The rib which had caused the hole was carefully shifted back into its proper position and held there. 

He turned his attention to Aziraphale’s head, which had several cracks, and his brain was swelling. Crowley worried even as he spread gentle healing over the area. He tried his best to simply believe he could make it happen, but the worry remained. What if he screwed something up and left Aziraphale with a damaged corporation? It wasn’t like they could just get him a new one - well, that was what got them into this mess in the first place. 

He finally turned his attention to the break in Aziraphale’s leg, and aligned the bones with careful miracles and gentle hands. He checked Aziraphale’s neck and was pleased to find only soft tissue damage. He couldn’t afford to waste the energy on healing the bruises, swelling or even on healing the breaks in the bones. He had to save his energy, keep enough to be able to keep them safe as best he could. 

With that in mind, Crowley fetched a cloth and (with one minor miracle) a bowl of warm water from the bathroom. He started carefully cleaning the blood off Aziraphale, wiping away the dirt and smoke residue and leaving mostly clean skin in his wake. He carefully fastened bandages, and changed out the wrapping on Aziraphale’s head wound for a clean one. He carefully wrapped the leg enough to create something like a splint, or at least keep the bones in place. 

With his angel finally taken care of, Crowley sat back and took stock of his own physical state. All told, he couldn’t believe he had gotten off as lightly as he had, and he wondered if Gabriel’s focus on punishing Aziraphale had focused the damage on the angel and things that would hurt him, like the damage to the bookshop. How else had he gotten away with nothing but a few lacerations, scrapes and bruises while Aziraphale’s corporation was almost broken beyond repair? 

He sat back in his chair with a groan and rubbed his hands over his face, then took a clean cloth and wiped his face and arms clean. He settled in to wait for Aziraphale to wake up. 

~~~@@@~~~

Aziraphale awoke with a swift, gasping breath. It startled Crowley, who had been almost dozing on his chair, and brought him lurching forward towards the bed. Aziraphale made it almost to a sitting position before collapsing back against the pillows with a pained groan. 

“Shhhh, Angel, it’s alright. I’m here, just lie back. I’ve got you.” He helped Aziraphale arrange himself more comfortably on the pillows, and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“What...my dear, what happened? I could have sworn there was an explosion…” 

“There was, Angel. Apparently Gabriel decided that discorporation would leave you enough at his mercy to be worthwhile attempting by human methods.” He took a deep breath, this next part was going to hurt Aziraphale the most. “He planted the bomb in the middle of the shop, Angel.” 

“My books?” Aziraphale’s eyes were wide as he asked the question. 

Crowley winced and had to shrug. “I don’t know, Angel. The shop was burning, a bit. I could hear the authorities coming, but my focus was getting you away, both so we wouldn’t be where Gabriel left us and also so we wouldn’t be taken to a hospital. I wasn’t sure how our corporations would stand up to examination by human professionals.” 

Aziraphale tried to nod in agreement, but ended up hissing with pain instead, pushing back against the pillows. “How badly are you hurt, dearest?” 

“I seem to be alright, Angel. I don’t know if Gabriel somehow unknowingly focussed the blast on you or if you just took the brunt of it naturally, but all I’ve got is some bruises and scrapes. You, on the other hand...Angel, your corporation is a mess, as I’m sure you can feel. I’ve healed what I can, for now. I’m afraid if I try to do too much at once it will exhaust me and I won’t be able to keep us safe.” 

“Very...sensible, my dearest.” Aziraphale’s words were slurring together, muddying his speech beyond comprehension, then his eyes rolled back in his head and his head arched back into the pillows, eyelids fluttering as he body spasmed violently on the bed. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley tried to think what to do, what did you do when someone was fitting? Were you supposed to put something in their mouth to keep them from biting their own tongue? He thought he remembered that from somewhere, but other advice had been to simply put the person on their side and wait it out. He decided to follow the lesser of the two pieces of advice and carefully rolled Aziraphale onto his side, trying to push down the fear and do what needed to be done. 

Finally, Aziraphale ceased twitching, his muscles relaxed and allowed him to go limp on the bed. Crowley stared, eyes wide, terrified. What had he done? He had done something wrong when he healed the damage to Aziraphale’s brain, he must have. He remembered his doubt and fiercely chastised himself. He had known it wasn’t something he should be doing but he’d done it anyway, and now he’d broken his angel’s corporation somehow. 

He got a glass of water and came back to the bed to wait again for Aziraphale to wake up again. 

~~~@@@~~~

The next time Aziraphale woke up, Crowley was deeply asleep in his chair, sprawled in a position that didn’t really look particularly comfortable. Aziraphale tried to get a better idea of his own injuries, but too much of his body hurt to really get a good idea. He tried to push himself up, and collapsed back on the bed with a whimper. 

The soft sound was enough to wake Crowley, who came upright in an instant, hissing at the stiffness in his sore muscles. “Angel? How are you feeling?” he leant forward and took Aziraphale’s hand in his. 

Aziraphale tried to smile but the expression was rather strained. “As well as can be expected, I suppose, my dear. Did I fall asleep on you earlier?” 

Crowley hadn’t really wanted to tell Aziraphale about what had happened straight away. He wanted to see if it would happen again first. If it was somehow just a one-off, he didn’t want to stress out his angel. Aziraphale was looking at him, though, and he’d always been absolutely pants at lying to his angel. 

“You...you had a fit, Aziraphale,” he explained. “I’m so sorry, I must have made a mistake when I healed your brain. All I wanted to do was bring down the swelling and heal the skull fractures, but...I must have messed up somehow.” His head fell into his hands with a sob, but he soon found a hand pulling at his arm and he looked up into Aziraphale’s eyes. 

He didn’t see any condemnation there, but that didn’t make him feel any better. “Crowley. You were saving my life. At the very least you were saving me from an eternity trapped in Heaven under Gabriel’s thumb. And it might not happen again, my dearest. You kept me alive, and that’s all that matters, that I’m here with you.” His voice was getting rather raspy, and Crowley, glad for something to do, retrieved his water glass. 

“Drink, Angel,” he assisted Aziraphale in taking small sips of the water until he’d had about half the glass. “Are you hungry? I can get room service, or delivery, if you want. It would probably be good for your corporation to eat something, it’s going to need fuel to heal.” 

Aziraphale thought for a moment. “Maybe some poached eggs and toast, my dear? My stomach is feeling a touch tetchy, but I think I could probably keep that down.” He looked down at his corporation and tried to reach out and miracle some of the pain away, only to find that he couldn’t seem to do any miracles. He could feel his Ethereal being, but couldn’t seem to use it to interact with his corporation on that level. In fact, as he tried, his head began to pound painfully. “Ahhh!” the exclamation, along with the hands pressed against his temples, recalled Crowley’s attention from his phone. 

“Angel? What is it, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed and he glanced away. 

“It’s...Crowley, I can’t miracle my corporation better,” the fear that was clearly growing in Aziraphale’s eyes tugged at Crowley’s heart. 

“Well, neither of us have ever been hurt this badly before, but theory is that all of your energy is already focused on healing your corporation already. Once you’re better, it will go back to normal.” He suppressed the desire to add ‘I hope’ to the sentence. The last thing Aziraphale needed right now was to feel that his demon had no more idea of what was going on than Aziraphale himself did. 

Aziraphale nodded, hoping that that was actually what was going on but terribly afraid it would turn out to be something far worse.


	3. Soothing where it hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lovely hurt/comfort interlude as Crowley takes care of Aziraphale...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much to my wonderful beta, SlateBlueFlowers, who does such an awesome job of helping me polish this! And to all of the corner-dwellers on the Ace Omens Discord, who are definitely all in some way responsible for inspiring this. Also thank you to everyone who takes the time to review or tap the kudos button, you inspire me more than you know!

After breakfast had been delivered and they had both eaten, Crowley glanced down at Aziraphale’s pyjama-clad form. “Are you comfortable, Angel? Is there anything you need?” 

Aziraphale frowned in thought, cataloguing the physical reactions in his body other than pain. Well, that was something. “Some pain relief, perhaps? Do you think it would work for us? I mean, our corporations can get drunk, right, surely other intoxicants can affect us too?” His voice lilted upwords with the question, sounding hopeful, and Crowley decided he would will it into working if he had to. 

“Of course, angel, I’ll get some right away,” Crowley was embarrassed not to have already considered it, and he chose not to wait for the concierge to collect and deliver some, instead snapping his fingers. Ibuprofen, paracetamol and codeine bottles from a nearby pharmacy, where the owner was consistently underpaying his staff, appeared on the bedside table. After a moment of consideration, Crowley decided to see how the paracetamol and ibuprofen worked before breaking into the extremely addictive drugs. He’d seen too many humans hurt themselves with addiction to ever want that for his angel.

Once Aziraphale had taken the four pills, Crowley repeated his question. “Is there anything else you need?” 

Aziraphale didn’t even have to really think. His skin was sticky and he could still smell smoke and blood. “Actually, my dear, it would be wonderful to get a bit cleaner. I mean, you have truly done an excellent job in cleaning me up, but I could definitely do with more of a wash.” 

Crowley nodded, frowning in thought. There was a large tub in the bathroom that he would easily be able to help Aziraphale bathe in, the main issue would be keeping his bandages dry. A small miracle had that taken care of, then he lifted Aziraphale in his arms and carried him into the bathroom. Since he would be miracling up new clothes, he decided not to waste a miracle on undressing and instead used his claws to carefully cut Aziraphale’s pyjamas away, then shed his own clothing before climbing into the tub full of warm water with Aziraphale in his arms. 

He took a cloth and began to run it over Aziraphale’s skin gently, removing the last bits of dirt as the warm water eased their aching muscles. Once they were both clean, he ran a hand through Aziraphale’s hair and decided it could do with a wash as well. With gentle hands, he wet the hair down, then massaged shampoo into the pale curls and rinsed it out, which definitely proved to be the most trying part of the production. 

Once they were both as clean as soap and water could make them, Crowley lifted Aziraphale back out of the bathtub. Keeping with his decision to do as many things the human way as possible, he sat him on the toilet seat and grabbed towels from the towel warmer, quickly wrapping one around Aziraphale’s shoulders and used another to gently blot the majority of the water from his hair. He worked patiently, trying his hardest to cause his angel as little pain as possible. 

Soon enough they were both dry, and after only a moment’s consideration and remembering that he needed to miracle up the clothes anyway Crowley snapped and they were both wearing comfortable sweatshirts and pants once more. 

“Really, Crowley?” Aziraphale was staring at the text on Crowley’s top. Crowley looked down, and flushed with embarrassment. Eden, Est 4004 BC was emblazoned across his chest. Aziraphale’s, too, come to that, although it was in blue on a cream sweatshirt for him. 

“Yes, well…” Crowley lifted Aziraphale from the toilet and carried him back to the bedroom, rearranging the pillows to allow him to recline comfortably. He wanted to use more miracles to make his angel feel better, but at the same time he was worried if he used too many he wouldn’t have what he needed if or when Gabriel found them again. 

Where were they going to go? Oh, they had found their (not so) little cottage in the South Downs, but it wasn’t actually theirs yet.

Aziraphale snuggled back into the soft pillows, then patted the bed beside him. “My dear, there is plenty of room over here, I really see no reason for you to be stuck in that uncomfortable chair,” he said reprovingly. 

Crowley could think of several reasons, mostly involving the bed moving under Aziraphale and causing him more pain, but the expression on his angel’s face kept him from expressing them. Instead, he carefully slid onto the other side of the bed, and moved close enough to Aziraphale that they could feel each other’s body heat but weren’t actually touching. 

Aziraphale allowed his eyes to drift closed, and Crowley leant against the sole remaining pillow and settled in to watch his angel sleep. 

~~~@@@~~~

Crowley woke to an arm slapping him across the face with force and came upright to find Aziraphale’s limbs were thrashing, his spine curving upwards. Crowley swore violently and tried to turn Aziraphale, which became easier as the seizure eased. It felt like it went forever, but finally it stopped, leaving Aziraphale lying pale and still on top of the sheet, the only bedding left on the bed. 

“He...hea...somewhere dammit!” Crowley screamed, and threw a pillow across the room. What had he done? What had he caused? He got himself back under control and knelt next to the bed, stroking Aziraphale’s cheek. “It’s going to be alright, angel. I’m going to fix this,” he whispered, ignoring the wetness on his cheeks. “I’m going to find a way to fix this, I promise.” 

~~~@@@~~~

Aziraphale was groggy and disoriented when he regained consciousness. He didn’t ask any questions, for which Crowley was very grateful as he didn’t think he could answer any right now. He had no answers, beyond the fact that he had caused this, it was his fault. He encouraged Aziraphale to take more painkillers, then set about taking care of his angel as best he could, getting him something simple but nice to eat, making sure he had enough to drink and generally hovering over him. 

“Crowley. What happened to the shop?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley didn’t know what to say. He had no answers for the angel beyond what he’d already told him - the shopfront blown out, the interior smoldering if not actively burning, torn books everywhere. He couldn’t go and check, because what if something happened to Aziraphale while he was gone? 

An idea occurred to him then. He couldn’t go, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have access to an entire army of hidden informants all over the city. Nowhere could really keep out rats, not even the Langham. 

“I don’t know, Angel, but I’ll find out.” He crossed to the wall and began to search for what he needed. This wasn’t as simple as getting the rats to invade a space and just behave like rats, but it wasn’t something he’d never done before. Soon enough, the message was on its way, and multiple rats would be converging on A.Z. Fell & Co to see what they could learn. 

~~~@@@~~~

The news wasn’t good. Aziraphale didn’t cry when Crowley told him what the rats had discovered, and somehow that made it harder to bear. Most of the shop had been destroyed, if not by the fire then by the humans’ efforts to subdue the flames. Old books and high pressure hoses do not make a good combination. 

Crowley wished Aziraphale would just cry. He wasn’t sure it would help, but he was sure it would relieve some of the tension that was building up in his angel. At some point, Aziraphale was going to break down. Crowley wished it could be at a predictable time, but really he knew better. 

Crowley watched Aziraphale’s face and read the absolute devastation there. They needed to get down to the shop to see what, if anything, could be salvaged, but he wasn’t sure that Aziraphale was up to that. 

Stretching, he realised his own corporation was basically healed. Aziraphale, on the other hand, looked as bad as ever. If anything, the bruising had become more pronounced, mottling much of his skin various shades of deep red, purple and black. The painkillers did seem to be helping, though, for which Crowley was grateful. 

Crowley wished he could help more, but fear held him back. For one thing, he really did need to maintain his energies to be prepared to protect them from anything that might come. For another...well, he’d clearly already screwed up helping Aziraphale and who knew what might happen if he tried again? 

He shook himself out of his brooding and went back to thinking on what he could do to preserve what was left of the bookshop before someone came and ransacked the place. Suddenly it came to him. They KNEW people now. If he rang Madame Tracy, she would surely be willing to go and sort out anything salvageable. He could miracle up some paperwork that showed she had the right to act on Aziraphale’s behalf while they were ‘out of the country’. That should clear up any questions the authorities had, and get whatever remained of Aziraphale’s books to safety, all in one swoop. 

The thought was parent to the deed, and soon Madame Tracy was at the door to their suite, Sergeant Shadwell hovering behind her. Crowley found he couldn’t bring himself to let them past the entrance, not with Aziraphale so vulnerable inside, so he kept them at the door. 

“Dearie, whatever has happened?” demanded the brightly dressed woman, eyes wide as she took in Crowley’s healthy but still decidedly dishevelled form. 

Crowley outlined the events of the last day and his concerns around safety if they were to return to the shop themselves to get their things. He provided her with the paperwork to give to anyone who objected to what she was there to do, and ensured she had his number so he could give a verbal bollocking to anyone who tried to stand in her way. 

They left, giving Crowley their assurances that they would find a way to collect as much as they could, and that they would give anyone else non-human from the airstrip a very wide berth. He vaguely heard Madam Tracy saying something to Sergeant Shadwell about ‘many hands’ before the lift doors closed behind them. 

He reentered the bedroom to be with Aziraphale, wanting to tell him the good news, and cried out in horror. Aziraphale was sprawled on the floor, lip caught between his teeth to contain the sounds of pain he was making as he attempted unsuccessfully to push himself back up. He must have tried to stand, only for his broken leg and weakened state to send him tumbling. 

“Angel!” Crowley fell to his knees and tried to assess the best way to get Aziraphale back onto the bed, or at least off the floor. Whatever he did, it was going to hurt. “Okay. Here, let me,” his hands fluttered uselessly as he tried to decide what to do, then just set his teeth and eased his arms under Aziraphale’s knees and back. The angel gave up on holding back his whimpers about halfway through the operation, but once held firmly against Crowley’s body he seemed a little better. 

“Where were you trying to go? What do you need?” Crowley sat back on his heels, cradling Aziraphale like the precious thing he was. 

“I...just wanted some water,” Aziraphale refused to look at Crowley’s face, his embarrassment writ large on his features. 

“Do you want to lie back down on the bed? Or did you want to try sitting for a while?” Crowley waited patiently for an answer, unable to enjoy holding his angel close when he knew he was hurting him. 

Aziraphale thought for a moment. “Could we...try sitting? It would be nice to be more upright.” 

“Of course, Angel.” Crowley stood, lifting Aziraphale with ease, and carried him through to the lounge where there were several comfortable chairs. He carefully lowered the angel into one of them, tucking a cushion where it seemed like it would support him best, then stood back. “Can I get you something, Angel? Anything at all?”

Aziraphale managed a small smile despite the pain that the fall and move had exacerbated. “A cup of tea would be truly lovely, my dear. Maybe some cake or biscuits?”

Taking Aziraphale’s continued appetite as a good sign, Crowley hurried to place an order for tea and cakes with the concierge.


	4. Warmth and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley takes care of his angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to @slateblueflowers for being a wonderful beta! And thank you to the AceOmens Discord for the encouragement and feedback.

Once Aziraphale was back in bed and asleep, not having managed to stay awake for long after eating, Crowley sat down to really think about what should happen next. Grabbing the convenient pen and paper provided by the hotel, he began to make a list of things they needed as well as risks and ways to minimise them. 

The first thing they needed was somewhere safe to live, and neither his flat nor the bookshop qualified. After some consideration, he placed a call to the realtor who was selling the cottage they had looked over just a day before and put in an offer of ten thousand over asking price in cash, with the stipulation that the current owners be out of the house within the next week. Considering that the house had seemed mostly packed up anyway, and that the extra funds would certainly pay for excellent removal services, Crowley didn’t think it was an unreasonable request. He ensured that the realtor wouldn’t think it was unreasonable either, deciding that on balance having a stable, protectable residence was more important than maintaining peak occult energy. 

Within the hour, he had agreement back from the realtor, who would drive to London the next day to bring him the contract and take receipt of the cashier’s cheque. Crowley then contacted his bank and arranged for said cheque to be delivered to him at his hotel, citing a need to be where he was to care for his sick partner. The woman on the phone made some truly disgusting cooing noises at that and almost gave Crowley a fit of apoplexy telling him how nice, loving and caring he clearly was. 

Crowley then set his mind on how to secure their future from further attacks. Obviously Heaven hadn’t given up on their plans to punish Aziraphale. It was entirely likely that Hell, being at least as grudge-holding as their ethereal counterparts, were equally determined to punish Crowley. Ideas for protections on the house, ways of disguising their presence and even the possibility of going magic-free a la Sleeping Beauty came to him, although the last was swiftly dismissed. Neither he nor Aziraphale were cut out for living in the world entirely as humans, and there was no guarantee that trying to do so would actually hide them from anyone. 

He finally sat back with a sigh, an entire pad full of ideas that may or may not be of use in front of him. He needed Aziraphale to work with him on this, really. While he mostly knew the angel’s abilities, there were things that Aziraphale was just better at than him. Also, having lived in a few monasteries, he might have some ideas that Crowley wasn’t privy to about (mostly) demon-proofing a space. 

Deciding he couldn’t do anything more for now, he decided to spare just a little energy to assess Aziraphale’s condition. His healing should be starting to take care of some things, but after his fall earlier Crowley felt an intense need to know his current physical condition. 

It wasn’t good. While the bones had begun to knit, they weren’t strong enough for him to withdraw the reinforcing miracle yet. The bruising that Crowley could see was actually deeper than he had realised at first, probably because he had been focussed on life-ending injuries at the time. He still couldn’t put his finger on why the angel was healing so slowly. They generally were not restrained to a normal human healing rate despite having human-style corporations, and he feared he had missed a significant injury that was diverting Aziraphale’s healing somewhere else. 

Not finding anything that he could put his finger on as the remnants of that type of injury, Crowley withdrew his essence from Aziraphale. He paused for a long moment, considering, then shook his head. He couldn’t risk touching Aziraphale’s brain again. He’d already damaged something in there badly for Aziraphale to be having fits, and he could only hope that it was something that Aziraphale’s healing would set to rights. 

Well, if Aziraphale’s healing didn’t pick up, he was going to be taking care of his angel for some time to come. Crowley had no objections to doing so, and he began to think of the things he could do to keep his angel comfortable and happy while he convalesced. 

~~~@@@~~~

Aziraphale woke with a muffled cry, trying to come upright only to collapse with a groan. His breath came in violent gasps, eyes flying around the room. Whatever he was seeing deploy disturbed him, as he didn’t seem to be calming down. 

“Angel?” Crowley leant forward and took Aziraphale’s hand in his. “Hey, hey, you’re alright, you’re safe, I’m here. Just breathe, Aziraphale, we’re okay.” He cupped Aziraphale’s cheek to capture his attention, stroking his thumb over Aziraphale’s cheekbone. 

Aziraphale blinked hard and focussed on Crowley’s face, breath slowing as his eyes flitted over the demon’s features. “You’re alright,” he whispered, and Crowley pressed a kiss to the hand he was holding. “You’re alright.” Aziraphale’s face crumpled and his frame shook with sobs as tears overcame him. He kept gasping the two words over and over, his free hand fisting in Crowley’s hoodie. 

“Yes, Angel, I’m alright. I’m here,” Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hand as tightly as he dared, trying to reassure the angel of the reality of his existence. “It’s okay, Aziraphale. We’re going to be okay.” He put as much belief as he could muster into those words, and somehow they came out not sounding like a lie. Aziraphale wept for long minutes and Crowley didn’t try to soothe him out of it, just holding onto him as best he could. Aziraphale, Crowley was quite certain, needed this release. 

Finally the tears tapered off, and Crowley briefly left Aziraphale’s side to fetch a cloth to wipe his face. He returned with both that and a glass of water which he encouraged Aziraphale to drink. 

Once Aziraphale had cleaned up his face and was sitting propped up on pillows, Crowley perched on the edge of the bed, sitting hip to hip with him on the edge of the bed, and explained the various arrangements he had been making. He started to cry softly again upon hearing about Madame Tracy (“it’s...hic....just Miss, now, dearest, Miss Potts, or Marjorie,”) and Sergeant Shadwell going to the shop to see what they could rescue. Crowley thought the loss of his home was a deeper wound than anything that had happened to him physically. When he told him that he’d arranged for the purchase of the cottage, Aziraphale absolutely lit up. 

“We can...still do that?” he questioned, unsure. “Will it be safe? I want you to be safe, my dear, if it’s not safe…” his hand picked at the blanket beside Crowley’s leg, actually creating a hole in the weave before Crowley gently captured it in his own hand. 

“We will make it as safe as we possibly can, Angel. We’ll get Book Girl to help, and we’ll make it safe.” He smiled tightly down at Aziraphale’s drawn features, seeing the evidence of his lack of ability to keep his angel safe. It really didn’t make sense to him that Aziraphale had taken so much more damage in the blast than he had. 

He dismissed the thought as not worth dwelling on, shifting his focus back to the present. 

“Is there anything you would like, dearest? Something to eat? I can get you anything at all, you want food from the Ritz or Fat Duck - I’ll get it for you.” Crowley smiled into Aziraphale’s eyes encouragingly, wanting to do something really comforting for him. 

Aziraphale’s gaze shifted away and he flushed slightly. “There…is something, but you’re going to think it’s...you’re going to laugh.” 

“I wouldn’t!” Crowley held a hand to his chest in mock affront, and Aziraphale chuckled weakly before continuing. 

“I...actually, what I would really love right now is some of the macaroni and cheese that comes in a box? You know, you add milk and microwave it?”

Crowley blinked for a moment, surprised. That was, admittedly, not what he had expected. He’d thought maybe a really greasy kebab, or the North African style of shawarma where they put the chips into the wrap instead of serving them separately. 

“Okay, mac’n’cheese. Anything else, angel?”

“A deep fried Mars Bar?” Aziraphale’s embarrassment was acute, but Crowley frankly found this adorable. He knew how much Aziraphale enjoyed fine foods, but the idea of him equally enjoying and finding comfort in terrible ones was darling. 

“Okay, angel, one deep fried Mars Bar and plastic mac’n’cheese coming right up.” Deciding that this was not an order he was going to ask the hotel to fulfil, and was truly quite a small miracle, he snapped. Somewhere, a box of mac’n’cheese disappeared off the shelf of a store belonging to a particularly odious and short tempered man who had just finished his stocktake, leaving his numbers once again out. Meanwhile, a very confused worker in one of London’s best chippys would swear for the rest of their life that a perfectly fried Mars Bar just vanished from the basket as it was brought back out of the oil. 

Crowley presented Aziraphale with the Mars Bar and set about utilising the little kitchenette to make something edible from the packet of noodles and powdered cheese. He did have to call down for a bottle of milk, since he wasn’t going to compound the food-crime he was committing by using the long-life milk in the tiny sachets the fridge came stocked with. 

Aziraphale savoured the Mars Bar in exactly the same way he would savour an exquisitely created petit-four at high tea. Holding it delicately between finger and thumb he nibbled decorously on it. Crowley returned with the bowl of steaming noodles to find Azirphale had barely made a dent in the deep-fried treat, and settled in to watch. 

When Aziraphale had finished half of the treat, he held it out to offer Crowley a taste. Crowley didn’t even consider not accepting, simply leaning forward to take a bite. The mix of melted chocolate and nougat with hot caramel and crispy batter was delicious and, having created the concept of comfort food (one of Aziraphale’s blessings he had taken on while performing a temptation in the same area) he now found himself caught in it, wanting more of it to make himself feel better. 

When the Mars Bar was finally finished, the pasta had just reached the perfect temperature to be eaten, and Aziraphale dug in, small sounds of pleasure making Crowley smile. He had done that for his angel. It was even better than suggesting a meal somewhere, because as much as them being there might be down to him, he wasn’t the one who prepared that food. Knowing that he was responsible for preparing the food that was giving Aziraphale such pleasure gave him a warm glow. 

~~~@@@~~~

Crowley was startled out of his contemplation of Aziraphale’s (once more) sleeping features by the ringing of his phone, and on seeing the number he quickly swiped to answer it, making his way into the living room as he did so. 

“What can you tell me?” he demanded. It had been hours since he had sent the two elderly humans to check on Aziraphale’s shop, and he had honestly expected to hear back from them before now. 

“It’s a mess, Mr Crowley,” Mada...Miss Tracy (1) told him. “But we got quite a few books out. Some of them are going to need a lot of work.” She paused for a moment, then continued. “The police are going to be calling you shortly, I believe. We did have to give them the papers to be allowed to remove things from the shop, they tried to stop us from going in because of worries about structural damage, but the paperwork seems to have smoothed our way there.”

“Ngh, yeah, it would have done,” Crowley scratched behind his ear, shrugging. Thanks to the paperwork, the police probably wouldn’t even make contact. He hadn’t considered that there might be real concerns to keep the humans out of the space so the persuasion built into the paper had been...liberal. “So you got some books out?” 

“It’s hard to say how many of them we got. We’ve checked everywhere we can get to, and I think we got all surviving books and parts thereof.” 

“I owe you for this, both of you,” Crowley said. 

“Oh it wasn’t just the two of us, Mr Crowley. Once your young man’s neighbours realised what we were doing they insisted on helping out. They were all quite distraught at the goings on. Without them it would have taken days to get the job done, several acrobatic young things even got themselves into the apartment. The good news is that the books stored up there seem to have come out of this situation far better than those in the shop.” 

Thinking of the many piles of books and the full bookshelves that had made up most of Aziraphale’s apartment’s decor, Crowley sighed with relief. That would make things easier for his angel. 

“We should have a new place to live in a week, can you hold onto the books until then? Maybe unpack any that are damp so they won’t get more damaged until we’re into our new place?” 

Mada...Miss Tracy took a moment to reply. “I’ll find a way to make it work, Mr Crowley. With everything that was destroyed, I certainly don’t want to be responsible for any more damage. I’ll do my best to lay them all out. Should we be trying to dry them, applying heat perhaps?” 

“NO!” The word burst out of Crowley without him even thinking about it. He’d learned a lot about book restoration, not so much from hanging around Aziraphale but from a desire to have reasons to hang around him. “No heat. Just let them be out where the air can circulate around them and Aziraphale and I will take care of the rest.” 

Miss Tracy, after a few moments of dithering, seemed to decide to just move on. “How is Mr Fell?” she asked, voice soft and concerned. “The shop...it’s a wonder either of you got out alive, with the damage it took.” 

Crowley wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell her. “He’s...he’s hurt but he’s getting better,” Crowley said, putting as much belief into his tone on that as he could. He needed that to be true. “Anyway, appreciate the help with the shop, have to run. I’ll let you know when we’ve got somewhere to take the books.” He hung up without waiting for any further polite niceties, and sat back in his chair with a groan. He stood and stretched, listening to the quiet in the suite. After glancing in the bedroom door to see Aziraphale sleeping peacefully, he crossed to the couch and threw himself down, grabbing the TV remote. Some Golden Girls sounded good just now. 

1\. Crowley had enough trouble with names that remembering to change to a Miss from a Madame was as much as could really be expected of him. He still, after all these months, referred to Anathema as Book Girl, after all.


	5. complete collapse and renewal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything crashes in on Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to @slateblueflowers, who as always has polished this to a high shine. And thank you again to everyone who has taken the time to leave a comment or kudos, every single one is appreciated!

Crowley realised he must have fallen asleep watching the television when a thud, more felt than heard, roused him. He shot to his feet, eyes darting around the room as he searched for the danger his mind was sure existed. 

A second sound brought his attention to the bedroom and he realised whatever was in the suite was in with Aziraphale. He crossed the room in an instant, wings snapping into existence as he launched himself through the door to confront the intruder. 

He froze, head swivelling in confusion as he realised there was no intruder in the room. Turning to face the bed fully, he found Aziraphale, broken leg hanging off the side, body still caught in the last violent struggles of another seizure. 

Crowley broke. He dropped to his knees with a wail and wept violently. He’d hoped, with over twelve hours passing since the previous event, that maybe it had only been a brief problem, but clearly he had truly damaged Aziraphale’s corporation, potentially beyond repair. He had done this to his angel, it was his fault. Tears dripped down his face as the self-recriminating thoughts ran through his head, paralysing him in their grip until he could only sob, hands fisted in his hair, a high pitched whine continuing unbroken until he ran out of breath, and then he just sat, pulling on his hair and rocking. All he wanted to do was cross the room to Aziraphale’s side, but he couldn’t move. His mind screamed for him to move, to help, but his body was paralysed, unable to respond. The self-disgust and guilt drilled into him as, for the first time in his entire existence, he found himself completely unable to go to his angel’s assistance.

“Cr...Crowley? Crowley, love?” The soft, pained voice of his angel finally broke through Crowley’s pain-filled thoughts, and he looked up to see Aziraphale, hanging half off the edge of the bed and reaching a hand out towards him. He was twisted, his upper body listing off the bed, while his legs were still firmly planted on the mattress. The sheet was twisted around his body, held taut and probably at least half responsible for him still being on the bed. “Crowley, please, I can’t come to you, but if you’ll come over here I can…” he stopped talking, not sure what he could actually do for Crowley in this situation but just wanting him closer. The expression of mixed love, pain and hopelessness on his face managed what his words alone may not have been able to. 

It took Crowley several long moments to regain control of his limbs, then he was scrambling across the floor to Aziraphale on the bed, carefully easing him back onto the mattress and collapsing with his face pressed into the soft surface, his renewed tears soaked up by the duvet. 

Aziraphale lifted a shaking hand and buried his fingers in Crowley’s hair, murmuring comforting nonsense as Crowley gave muffled apologies. 

“It’s okay, love, we’ll be okay. We’ll find a way through this, Crowley, because we’ve still got each other. You’re my home, love, not the shop. You’re what I cannot lose.” 

Aziraphale’s words finally broke through Crowley’s poisonous thoughts, and the demon finally got his corporation back under control. He sat back on his heels and blinked up at his angel, who smiled sadly down at him. 

“There you go, love, you’re alright. We’re both alright.” 

“No!” The word exploded out of Crowley before he could think better of it. “You’re not alright, Angel, and it’s all my fault!” 

Aziraphale blinked hard, trying to put the pieces together to come up with the same picture as Crowley. They wouldn’t seem to fit. “Crowley, I fail to see what part of Gabriel attacking us was your fault.” 

“I healed you wrong, Angel! These seizures, they’re all my fault. I don’t understand how you can stand to even look at me, knowing that.” Crowley twisted his head away, but Aziraphale grabbed his arm and held on with surprising strength. 

“Crowley, if you hadn’t healed me at all I would have discorporated. I would be stuck, no way to get a new body, and far too susceptible to Gabriel’s machinations. He would have dragged me back to Heaven and kept me there indefinitely. Whatever’s still wrong with me is on Gabriel, not you, and I won’t have you blaming yourself. We’ll figure this out. As long as we’re together, we can do anything.” 

Crowley gulped a laugh through his tears. “So sappy, Angel,” he teased softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Much the same, really, although my head feels...kind of stuffy? Thick, like I can’t think exactly right. The pain is much as it was before, maybe slightly worse for moving around but not overly so. And tired, really tired.” Aziraphale smiled at Crowley, bringing the hand he was now holding up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. “Mostly, I’m feeling grateful to be here, love. Above everything else, never doubt that, okay? Being here is everything I could want in this situation.” 

“Nnngk,” Crowley mumbled. Aziraphale always could wrap his hand right around Crowley’s heart and squeeze, even before they were supposed to be anything to each other. “Yeah. Me too. Bastard.” He turned away to get Aziraphale more painkillers. It was merely a coincidence that doing so also concealed his blush.

~~~@@@~~~

An hour later, they were in the living room, Crowley curled up to support Aziraphale on the couch, watching trashy TV together. Crowley was feeding Aziraphale bites of baklava and sips of peppermint tea. The angel snuggled back against his demon, enjoying the closeness and the way it made him feel better despite how it should have exacerbated his pain. 

Crowley laughed at something on the TV screen, recalling Aziraphale’s attention to the old comedy army program that was playing. He blinked at the image of an outhouse building being dragged across a compound. 

“Korea. Was that...Hell or Heaven?” He was trying to cut ‘your side/my side’ out of his vocabulary. They’d really always been on their own side, balancing each other out in their actions. 

“Just humans, again, angel. Got a commendation for communism, though, not that it was one of mine.” He grimaced. The topic of commendations for things he hadn’t even claimed responsibility for always grated on him, and Aziraphale immediately regretted even asking the question. 

“Sorry, love, it isn’t important, I was just thinking. It doesn’t matter.” He pressed a kiss to Crowley’s cheek in an effort to erase the line between his eyebrows. 

Crowley did smile, his face softening, before he shrugged. “None of the really big things of the last six millenia have actually been down to either of us, Angel. When you get right down to it, it’s really all just been humans.” 

“Yeah,” Aziraphale agreed. He was getting tired, but Crowley was so comfortable to lie on and he didn’t want to go back to bed and sleep alone. 

Of course, Crowley immediately noticed that he was lagging. “Tired, Angel?” 

“A bit, but I don’t want to go back to bed, Crowley. I’m not that tired. Just want to stay here,” he snuggled his head down on Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley wrapped his arms around him a touch more firmly. 

“You’d be more comfortable if we went and laid down,” Crowley put on his best tempting voice in an effort to convince Aziraphale to agree with him. Aziraphale snorted and dug an elbow into Crowley’s ribs, drawing a startled cry from the demon. “Oi! Bastard,” Crowley muttered. 

“Your bastard,” Aziraphale replied with a smug grin, and Crowley beamed. 

“Just enough of a bastard to be worth liking,” he reminded Aziraphale, who nodded sleepily, eyelids drooping. “Let me take you to bed, Angel. We can lie down together.” 

“You’ll stay?” Aziraphale’s voice was small, as though he couldn’t bring himself to actually ask for what he needed, and Crowley nodded firmly. 

“Of course I’ll stay, if you want, Angel. Always. I am yours and you are mine,” he grinned when Aziraphale groaned. He may not have watched the TV show like Crowley, delighting in stealing cable service as he did. He had, however, read the books as he did most new authors who really made a splash on the scene, just to see if they were worth collecting. He’d enjoyed the series so far, but hadn’t felt any particular desire to see it play out in live action. He felt he had witnessed more than enough battles for a lifetime, really. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale nodded, nuzzling closer. Crowley smiled and stood, carefully lifting Aziraphale, and carried him into the bedroom once more. He laid him carefully in the bed, helping him find the most comfortable position, then slipped under the covers behind him. He snuggled up to Aziraphale, drawn as always to the angel’s body heat, and together they fell asleep. 

~~~@@@~~~

The next day, Crowley greeted the realtor in the living room of the suite with a large cashier’s cheque and signed the paperwork. 

“The owners say that they can be out in just a couple of days, if you want,” the realtor told him. “They were actually already mostly prepared for their move, they’ve been sorting things out for packing and downsizing as they go.” 

“Well, if they can do it I’d be more than grateful. Due to unforeseen circumstances we’re rather between places at the moment.” He ignored the human’s blatant interest in hearing about those circumstances and gestured for the paperwork, which he scrawled his signature on without reading. He could feel both the human’s greed for their commission and the absolute honest pleasure they got from doing a job well for everyone involved. The two weren’t as mutually exclusive as many people would have you believe, just because you love doing a job doesn’t mean you shouldn’t also want to get paid for it. 

“Thank you for your help,” he said, ushering the human back out the door. Two days. Two days and they could move into their own home, make it a home together. He quickly rang Miss Tracy and told her of the increased speed of their plans. The woman sounded frankly relieved that she wouldn’t be babysitting the books for much longer. 

He went to tell Aziraphale the good news, glad to find his Angel still sitting up in bed, reading the newspapers that had been delivered with their breakfast. 

“Two days?” Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide. “Two days and it’s ours?” The wonderment on his face made Crowley’s heart beat faster, and he grinned, allowing a little fang to drop and give him a very satisfied expression. 

“All ours, Angel. Our own home, our own nest. We can be safe, together.” Aziraphale made a happy noise and leaned forward to hug Crowley. Two more days. They could get through two more days. 

~~~@@@~~~

Crowley wanted to tear his hair out. He’d thought nothing could possibly be worse than the seizures already were. He’d been wrong. Before, the seizures had been spaced out, with more than twelve hours between each one. Aziraphale had had three in the past four hours, barely regaining consciousness between them and only slightly lucid even then. 

He checked the time on his phone. The last seizure had stopped thirty minutes ago, and Aziraphale was still unconscious. He held Aziraphale against his chest now, spooning him from behind and running his fingers through his hair. The guilt persisted, despite what Aziraphale had to say about it. He dropped a kiss on the top of the blonde curls, murmuring an apology. 

“Please wake up,” he whispered, hugging the painfully limp body tightly to himself. “Please, Angel.” There was no response, and Crowley felt his eyes burn with yet more ineffectual tears. “What good is this?” he snarled at himself, dashing the tears off his cheeks. “There must be something more useful I could be doing right now, surely there’s some way I can help.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to let go of Aziraphale and go looking for something, so he lay beside him on the bed, holding him firmly but carefully against his own body, needing to feel the warmth and life in the angel’s corporation. 

Aziraphale’s head twitched, and Crowley withdrew, cautious in case it was another seizure. He knew now that the best thing to do was to simply clear the area around Aziraphale, and then once the seizure was over, place him on his side. 

“Cr...Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice was a thin, cracked whisper, but Crowley heard it clearly despite that. 

“I’m here, Angel, I’m right here. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? What do you need?” 

“Some water, please?” Aziraphale’s tongue swiped over his lips, and Crowley grabbed a glass from the bedside table and assisted him in sipping through a straw. 

“There you go,” Crowley smiled softly at him. “See how that goes,” he withdrew the straw after several long sips, and Aziraphale smiled at him. He looked rather spaced out, and Crowley’s smile dimmed. 

“I’m alright, love,” Aziraphale, however out of it he was, could apparently read Crowley’s facial expressions like a book. “Or I will be. This situation...we’ll find a way to live with it, for as long as it lasts.” He sat up a bit straighter, hissing through his teeth as the movement pulled on his healing ribs. 

“Okay, love. You’re right. We’ll be okay. What would you like to do right now? I can find an audiobook on my phone? Or we can watch some more TV?” He was pretty sure that Aziraphale was in no fit state to try actually reading a book right now. 

“Ummm...an audiobook? That might be nice,” Aziraphale decided after a long moment. 

“Your wish is my command,” Crowley smiled as he pulled up Howl’s Moving Castle on his phone and cued it to play from the very beginning. He then pulled out the laptop he’d had the hotel concierge procure for him and got to work. He had a surprise to prepare for his angel.


	6. Moving forward, slowly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the ever patient @slateblueflowers for doing an amazing job of betaing once again! And thank you to everyone who takes the time to leave it comment, it makes more difference than you can imagine.

Aziraphale had another eight seizures before they left the Langham Hotel. Crowley counted himself lucky that he hadn’t had another cluster of seizures, which had been hands down the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. Considering his roles as Snake of Eden and literal demon of hell, that was saying something.

Aziraphale’s bones still hadn’t healed, and Crowley really wasn’t sure why. There was evidence of bone knitting, but it wasn’t happening with anything approaching the speed he would have expected. In fact none of his injuries were healing at the rate they ought to. Crowley had a sneaking suspicion that he knew the reason. What if Aziraphale’s ethereal power was focussed on healing whatever was wrong with his brain, as the biggest problem his corporation had? And it was leaving him in pain because it couldn’t heal his brain? What if it never could? The angel couldn’t do a single miracle right now, what if he could never perform a miracle again? 

Crowley took the fear and did what he’d done with so many of his feelings through the millennia since he’d stood on a wall and an angel had sheltered him under their wing: he stuffed it down deep inside of him and tried his damndest not to think about it at all. Instead, he focused on what he could do. Right now, that meant taking Aziraphale out of here, putting him into the Bentley, and driving out into the countryside. Miss Tracey and Shadwell were going to meet them at the house with the books they had managed to save. 

Crowley lifted Aziraphale into his arms, and the angel grumbled under his breath. He was getting very tired of his invalid status and inability to do anything for himself. “Come on, Angel. Once we’re at the cottage and it’s secured I can spare a few more miracles, see about getting you moving on your own, yeah? Until then, you’ll just have to accept me being your ride.” 

Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s cheek and snuggled his head against the demon’s shoulder. “I love you, my demon,” he whispered, and Crowley blushed hard. He managed not to drop Aziraphale, but it felt like a near thing. Several incomprehensible sounds later, he gave up on words and simply held Aziraphale a touch more firmly against himself, leaning his head down against the blond fluff. 

“Let’s go home, Angel,” he whispered, and Aziraphale nodded firmly. With a spring in his step, Crowley carried his love back out of the suite, into the elevator and out of the hotel. The Bentley was waiting for them, and a click of Crowley’s fingers removed the bright orange boot clamped around one wheel and opened the door. The seat adjusted itself slightly, giving Aziraphale a very comfortable upright position with plenty of support. Crowley patted the car’s bonnet with appreciation as he circled to the driver’s seat and sped away. 

~~~@@@~~~

When they reached the cottage, Aziraphale’s eyes were wide with excitement, but he wasn’t looking at the building. Instead, his eyes were caught by the site of Dick Turpin and a smallish delivery van standing off to the side of the house. He knew what was in those vehicles, and though he hadn’t realised that Anathema and Newt were involved, he probably should have. 

“Ah, looks like Book Girl and the junior witchfinder are here as well, Angel,” Crowley commented. He was excited and nervous in almost equal measure to see how Aziraphale reacted to his surprise. He was also flat out terrified that the books would be mostly destroyed and Aziraphale would be disappointed. 

He helped his angel out of the car and they started towards the house, Aziraphale sitting up straighter with his arms around Crowley’s neck as he craned his own neck around, trying to take everything in. They had gotten all the way to the door when the angel suddenly exclaimed, “But, Crowley, we don’t have any furniture!” 

Crowley smiled down at Aziraphale and opened the door with a snap of his fingers. “Already taken care of, Angel. Anything we don’t like, we’ll replace, but the place is at least partly furnished, enough for us to be going on with. I wanted us to do most of it together, but I also wanted to come up with a surprise for you, and considering you’ve been doing most of the sleeping lately…” he let the words trail off, ignoring Aziraphale’s indignant noises, and carried him through to the living room, where the four humans were waiting for them. Crowley carefully lowered Aziraphale into an overstuffed, tartan themed chair, and sat next to him. 

The four humans were staring at Aziraphale, mouths hanging slightly ajar, and Crowley soon felt his good temper evaporating. “What?” he demanded. “Yes, he doesn’t look so good right now. Once the house is protected, I can start helping him more with that.” 

“Of-of course, Mr. Crowley,” Book Girl stammered after a moment. “Let me show you what I’ve put together, see what you both think of it and whether it will work for you. I wouldn’t want to accidentally bar either of you from entering your own home, after all, and that’s quite the balancing act.” 

After Crowley and Aziraphale both combed through the recommendations Anathema had put together, made some changes and improvements and agreed that the plan was solid. Crowley and Anathema then went to work, tracing glyphs and sigils on doorways and walls until the house was protected, then they went out and did the same for the walls. 

By the time it was over, Crowley and Anathema were almost grey with fatigue, and Crowley was very glad he’d been saving his energies for this, despite how it had left Aziraphale. 

They reentered the house to find Miss Tracy kneeling on the floor with Aziraphale’s head in her lap, the angel carefully arranged on his side with his knees bent. Shadwell was standing back, watching the whole situation with an odd expression on his face as though trying to decide if seizures were a sign of evil or not. Newt entered from the kitchen carrying a tray laden with a tea service and a coffee plunger and nearly dropped the lot on seeing the expression on Crowley’s face. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” the demon snarled, falling to his knees and running a finger down Aziraphale’s face. 

“What you were doing was important, and he only just stopped fitting in any case,” Miss Tracy snapped in reply. “It would have been good to KNOW that he was suffering from seizures before one happened, though. You are just lucky that several of my psychic clients are epileptic and I learnt how to help them.” 

Crowley kept any further snarling purely internal as he glanced around the room. The fainting couch (Aziraphale would love it, it was all pale creams and blues with the softest cushions) was set up under one of the windows, and he carefully scooped the angel up and carried him over to it, waving off the humans’ fussing about him being moved. He carefully arranged him on the couch and pulled up a footstool to sit by his head, absentmindedly accepting a cup of tea from Newt. 

“Is this a new thing?” Miss Tracy asked, concern in every line of her body. 

“Yes, it’s new,” Crowley snapped, and the humans all recoiled slightly away from him. 

“Has he seen a doctor?” demanded Anathema, and Crowley rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. 

“Oh, yeah, Book Girl, because taking a non-human to a physician could never end badly, particularly in these days of medical and scientific testing.” He shook his head. “There’s no way of knowing what they might find about our bodies, it isn’t worth the risk. I may be perfectly capable of making them forget everything they saw but that doesn’t mean I want to have to try to do so.” He shook his head firmly. 

The humans didn’t try to argue with him, instead deciding to change the subject by starting to bring the books in from their vehicles. 

Crowley was disappointed to see the small number of boxes. If they had boxed everything that had been in the shop, the boxes would have required a much larger truck to transport them, and the rooms of the house they would fill would have been numerous. Instead, there was a pitifully small seeming pile of only a dozen or so boxes. 

Aziraphale jerked on the couch, waking up, and Crowley returned to his side, taking the angel’s hand in his own. “Here, Angel. I’ve got you, it’s okay. We’re here, in our home, with our friends, remember?” They’d found that it settled Aziraphale’s nerves to be reminded of exactly where he was, post seizure. That had the effect of allowing him to recover from the seizure faster simply because he was less stressed. 

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s fingers and tried to lever himself upright. “My dear, you look dreadful. You must be quite exhausted, and you as well, Anathema. We should get some food, do we have anywhere we can order from nearby?” 

Crowley shrugged and pulled out his phone, searching for anywhere in the village that offered delivery. There was a Chinese takeaway in their village and an Indian restaurant in the next, both of which offered delivery. He placed a quick order for Chinese, and a lot of it, then turned his attention back to Aziraphale. 

“How long’s it been since you had any medication, love?” he asked, thinking back. 

“I don’t remember having any since we left the hotel, unless I took some since we arrived at the house and forgot about it.” Aziraphale looked pained as he admitted not being sure about his memories. His mind was always the one thing he knew absolutely, and to be stuck doubting that was a crippling blow. 

Crowley glanced at the humans and they all shook their heads, so he fetched the medications and helped Aziraphale take them. “Tomorrow I’ll be able to heal you, Angel,” he whispered. “We just have to wait until then and I can take the pain away.” He tried not to think about what he couldn’t take away, what he didn’t dare to try to take away. What if he made it worse? What if by trying to help he fatally damaged Aziraphale’s corporation? Surely, his ethereal essence would eventually be able to heal whatever was wrong without Crowley interfering and probably screwing things up again. 

The food, when it arrived, was plentiful and delicious. Aziraphale made many approving noises over everything from the prawn crackers (light and crisp with barely any oily residue) to the ho fan noodles in broth. The humans all partook very willingly, and Crowley found that even he had an appetite for once, having expended a great deal of energy all at once. 

Once the meal was over, Aziraphale insisted the books needed to be unpacked and examined. After a moment’s thought, Crowley gently suggested that that might be a job best left to just the two of them, not wanting to put Aziraphale’s grief on display, or to have him feel that he must hide his grief from those he didn’t know as well as he knew Crowley. 

The humans took the hint well enough and took their leave, Miss Tracy promising to be in touch to see how they were doing, and Anathema insisting on hearing about anything that happened. Crowley and Aziraphale saw them off from the window, then Crowley started to open boxes. 

He was glad that the first box he opened contained intact books. He began pulling them out, noting any damage as he did so, and passing them one at a time to Aziraphale, who caressed them, assessing each as the beloved thing it was. 

The next box held pieces of books, and Aziraphale wept when he found the cover of his favourite Oscar Wilde, torn from its book. Crowley wondered if the remnants of the book were to be found in another box, or even buried deeper in this one. He gripped Aziraphale’s shoulder for a long moment, until the angel glanced up at him and visibly pulled himself together before turning back to the job, determined. 

It was an arduous task that took them long into the evening to complete, but Aziraphale insisted that they needed to unpack all the books, to prevent any further damage from befalling them. Crowley reluctantly complied, even as he watched the pain etching itself further and further into his angel’s very being. Aziraphale’s hands shook as he drew out another volume, smoothing his fingers over the deeply scarred leather cover. His breath caught as he took in the next volume, one that was actually intact but sodden. He set it close to the air conditioner to take advantage of the moisture-less air to help it dry. 

Finally, they were done, all the books and pieces thereof laid out on the large tables Crowley had ordered. Aziraphale, still kept mostly immobile, directed Crowley in how best to arrange them, taking great care with the ones close enough to reach as he laid them out, assessing for where any water damage might be hidden. Crowley almost crowed with delight when one of the last things pulled out of the box was the remainder of the Osar Wilde. Aziraphale collapsed back in his chair, staring at it with anguish and elation combined on his face. 

Crowley drew Aziraphale out of the room, finally, when there was nothing more to be done with the books for now. They would all need to dry in the climate controlled environment of the air conditioned room, the ambient temperature kept at eighteen degrees while the air was emptied of all moisture. 

Crowley carried Aziraphale up to the bathroom and, setting him down on the toilet, began to carefully remove his bandages. He assessed the broken leg and ribs carefully, finding that they had healed a little since the last time he had checked, probably more than a human would have done. That satisfied him, for now, that Aziraphale’s body was actually healing itself and he would be able to help it to do so faster as soon as tomorrow came. 

He redressed Aziraphale’s wounds, using waterproof dressings (something Anathema had told him about earlier, then proceeded to send Newt to acquire for them so that Crowley wouldn’t have to waste further miracles) and leaving the leg unsplinted as he carefully slipped Aziraphale into the tub full of steaming water. 

Aziraphale sighed, head going back against the edge, then he gripped Crowley’s sleeve and tugged. “You too, love,” he insisted softly. “Join me.” 

Crowley didn’t even consider refusing. He wasn’t sure that he could refuse Aziraphale anything when he asked like that, his eyes so big in his face. He stripped and slipped into the tub, sitting behind Aziraphale and wrapping his arms carefully around him. He smiled happily as Aziraphale leant his head back against his shoulder and sighed. 

“Perfect,” the angel murmured. “I love you, Crowley,” he turned his head to stare up into the demon’s eyes. “You know that, don’t you?” 

“I know, angel. I love you, too,” Crowley pressed a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s brow and silently wished that everything could be as simple as this moment right here.


	7. A little glue and gentle hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @slateblueflowers for yet another wonderful beta reading job! They polish the things I churn out so well! Just to let you know (should have said this several chapters back) this story is in fact FINISHED, it is only working its way through the editing process. We have a few chapters to go at this point. Thanks for reading, and for everyone who drops kudos or a review!

Crowley woke the next morning before the sun was up in the room that he had set up, at least for now, as their bedroom. Aziraphale was curled next to him, but the angel’s sleep was clearly anything but restful. The soft whimpers he was giving quickly told Crowley exactly what had woken him, and he took Aziraphale’s shoulder in a gentle grip. 

“Angel,” he called softly. “Aziraphale, I’m here. It’s okay, you’re safe. I’ve got you.” There were tears running down Aziraphale’s cheeks now, and Crowley wiped them away gently, his heart hurting as he took in Aziraphale’s expression of anguish. “Come on, Aziraphale, it’s time to wake up.” He didn’t want to shake the angel, so settled for giving his shoulder a firm rub. Aziraphale gave a snort, his eyes snapping open and darting around the room, clearly looking for something. When they settled on Crowley he settled backwards with a soft cry, reaching out for his demon and clinging tightly when Crowley pulled him into his arms. 

“It’s okay, love,” Crowley whispered softly. “Come on, let’s get you feeling a bit better.” He was much more energised after his night’s sleep and felt well and truly ready to see his angel healed. He smoothed a hand over Aziraphale’s ribs and worked a gentle miracle on them, to speed the healing that Aziraphale’s body was already doing. 

Aziraphale’s ribs healed, knitting together cleanly. Crowley smiled as he felt them rejoin, then reached for Azirphale’s lower leg. The two bones that had been so badly broken healed swiftly and cleanly under his touch. Aziraphale sighed with relief. Crowley sat back, hands shaking slightly from the effort he had expended. As much as he would like to continue to heal Aziraphale he didn’t think he actually could. The angel’s corporation was decidedly resistant to demonic energies, for all that he’d lived in it before. Maybe that resistance was what was wrong with Aziraphale’s brain, maybe it was holding on to some of the damage that Crowley had tried to heal. He shook his head, dismissing the rambling thought, and assisted Aziraphale to his feet. 

“Oh, my darling,” Aziraphale leaned up and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “That is so much better, thank you.” He twisted and winced, hissing through his teeth, bringing Crowley’s hands flying up to catch him as he stumbled. 

“It might be better, Angel, but it’s not all the way there yet,” Crowley pointed out dryly. “You’re still going to need to take things slowly. I can only heal so much at once, it seems, your corporation is quite resistant to me.” He scowled down at Aziraphale’s injury ridden form. “Still, you’re up and about, shall we head out into the village and have some breakfast?” 

Aziraphale smiled at the thought, then frowned down at his clothing, yet another set of Eden-branded leisure wear. 

“This won’t do at all, Crowley,” he objected. “I can’t go out in public dressed like this.” Crowley chuckled but waved off the concern. “Not to worry, my dear, I’m sure I can come up with something comfortable you’ll appreciate more.” Now that he wasn’t trying to force his energy into Aziraphale’s corporation, he was quickly feeling better. With a snap of his fingers, he was dressed in his preferred attire and Aziraphale was dressed in something similar to his own, but made of softer fabrics and less constricting to avoid putting pressure on his bruises and other injuries. 

Aziraphale looked down at his outfit and smiled gratefully. “That is lovely, my dear. Very comfortable.” 

“Take some medication and we’ll head out,” Crowley told him. Aziraphale nodded, taking the medicine Crowley offered and swallowing it swiftly, enjoying the decrease in his pain although so much still lingered. The broken bones that had made every movement a torment were healed now, allowing him much greater motion and freedom. 

They made their way out of the cottage and down the street, Aziraphale enjoying being on his own two feet while still linking his arm happily through Crowley’s. Crowley took pleasure in seeing how happy Aziraphale was. 

They stopped at a small cafe, and prepared to test it (almost) to destruction, to see if it was both culinarily worthy and if it could handle being regularly patronised by two non-human beings. 

The waitress stared, wide-eyed, at Aziraphale’s bruise-covered face, and Crowley glared back, daring her to say anything. She ducked her head with a squeak and ran into the kitchen, and the angel sighed. “Dearest, we do want to live here,” he reminded Crowley. “You’re going to have people thinking you did this to me or something ridiculous.” 

Crowley choked on air at the thought, and toned down his attitude when the waitress returned, allowing Aziraphale to handle the interaction with the poor girl, smoothing over the whole thing. 

Crowley didn’t mind his food once it arrived, the eggs were cooked well and the bacon was beautifully smoked and fried crispy, but Aziraphale’s French Toast was sadly less than great. More soggy on the inside that crisp on the outside, it wasn’t really edible, and the angel ended up pushing it aside and just sipping his tea until Crowley pushed his own plate over and stared meaningfully until Aziraphale took a piece of bacon. Crowley made sure that Aziraphale ate at least half of what was on the plate and drank several cups of tea. He ended up nibbling on small bites whenever the angel glared at him. 

Once breakfast was over (and Crowley mentally crossed this place off as a possibility for more breakfasts unless it changed hands) they decided to wander through town. They ended up ducking into the bakery, and Crowley bought several treats for his angel, a chocolate eclair, an eccles cake and a piece of truly decadent cheesecake. They wandered the village green and generally took in the scene much the same way they had a few days before. 

Crowley was so glad to see Aziraphale unwind, to relax. He seemed happier than he had been since they were last here, which wasn’t to say he was truly happy but he was certainly a lot lighter. Crowley wrapped an arm around his angel’s shoulders as they turned for home, enjoying that he could hold him this close in public. He didn’t care about what the humans thought, nothing they could say or do really mattered to him at all unless it made Aziraphale uncomfortable. He pressed a kiss to the angel’s temple, and they wandered home together arm in arm. 

~~~@@@~~~

Aziraphale waved Crowley out into the garden to have a look at what he had to work with out there, and once the demon was gone he made his slow way into the room where the books were drying out. He surveyed the sad remnants of the life he had worked so hard to build for himself, and though for a moment he felt as though he might weep again, as he ran his fingers over the cover of a book a deep rage began to build in his chest. 

Gabriel had done this to him, to them. He had destroyed Aziraphale’s nest, had ruined so many of his books, the books that Aziraphale had protected for years. He felt a scream building up in his throat, but he choked it down, not wanting Crowley to hear. He wanted to hit something, or throw something, but he contained himself. All the years of practice he had pushing down his reactions and hiding how he felt about his latest orders were put to work, now not to further the ‘Great Plan’ but to protect what little was left of his old life. 

He didn’t want all of his old life back, but there were things he hadn’t wanted to lose from it. He had collected those books slowly, over time, many of them from the original authors but others acquired through estate sales and auctions. It had been hard work to bring them all together, and he had guarded them with all the determination of a very polite dragon protecting its horde. 

He stumbled to a seat and collapsed into it, still staring at the books on the table. All that was left of a collection of thousands - a couple of hundred complete volumes, all with at least some damage, and then the bits and pieces of others. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what had destroyed the rest, whether it was the concussive blast, the fire, or the high-pressure hoses of the fire department. 

Aziraphale’s hands shook as he attempted to control his rage, when, just as quickly as it had risen it morphed back into grief. This time he could not contain his tears. Gabriel had his wish: Aziraphale was suffering.

He picked up the nearest piece of a book, which turned out to be one of his Shakespeare folios. Fortunately this was not the Hamlet that Crowley had gifted to him, which was lying over next to the Buggre Alle This bible. This was ‘All’s well that Ends Well’, one of his funny ones, as Crowley put it, from a few years after Hamlet was miracled into being a hit.

He ran his hands over what remained of the book, remembering the day he acquired it, the times he had read it, the time he and Crowley had managed to see a production of it. So many memories tied up in such a small thing, and now the object that had helped hold those memories for him was gone. The memories were still there, but it was harder to recall them without the tangible reminder. He carefully set the remainder of the folio down on the table and buried his face in his hands. 

He tried to pull himself together, he had more control than this! He prided himself on his ability to keep a stiff upper lip, to not let things get to him. The tears ran uncontrolled down his face despite his best efforts to rein them in. 

“Angel?” Aziraphale started violently at the sound of Crowley’s voice. Aziraphale couldn’t let Crowley find him like this, he had put up with enough ridiculousness from him these past weeks. He dashed the tears from his cheeks and drew in a deep breath through his nose, trying to clear it. He sat back in the seat and tried to look as though he was assessing what could be done for the remains of the portfolio. 

“Angel? Where are you?” Crowley sounded significantly more worried than he had when he first called out, and Aziraphale quickly replied, trying his best to keep his voice steady. 

“I’m back here, love. It’s alright.” Aziraphale called. Or, rather, he tried to call. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and the words emerged garbled, indecipherable. He tried again, but again the words wouldn’t come. He stood, legs shaking but holding him up, and staggered to the door. He attempted to call Crowley’s name but nothing comprehensible emerged. 

Fortunately, Crowley hadn’t been standing idle. He was already in the hallway coming towards the book room. When he caught sight of Aziraphale in the door, something relaxed minutely in his face. Then he really looked at Aziraphale. “Angel? What’s wrong?” 

Aziraphale tried to speak, and the odd babble that came out clearly terrified Crowley as much as it did him. Crowley was down the hall in a moment, taking Aziraphale’s elbows in his hands, ducking slightly to look him straight in the eyes. 

“Hey, it’s okay, come on, let’s get you sitting down,” he guided Aziraphale into the living room and onto the couch, then sat down beside him, turning to study his face closely. “Whatever this is, angel, we’ll figure it out. I mean, if it doesn’t discorporate us, our corporations always heal it eventually, right?” 

Aziraphale thought about it for a moment, then nodded slowly. He’d never had an injury his corporation couldn’t heal before, so surely whatever was wrong right now would heal too. It only made sense. Crowley waited until he could see that Aziraphale had accepted the idea, then moved closer and wrapped his arms tightly around him, snugging the plusher body against his chest and pressing his lips against the blond curls. 

“We’ll be alright,” he whispered. Aziraphale just clung back, and wished he could miracle away the tears that were insisting on falling. Crowley just murmured gentle nonsense and rubbed a hand firmly up and down Aziraphale’s back. 

Aziraphale finally relaxed in Crowley’s arms, a soft sigh leaving him, and whispered, “I love you, Crowley. I love you so much.” 

“I love you too, Angel,” Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s hair, then tilted his head up with a finger under his chin and pressed another to the corner of his eye, then another to the tip of his nose, and finally a soft peck to his lips. “I love you more than anything.” 

He settled them against the back of the couch, simply enjoying being able to hold Aziraphalel in his arms, the angel loving him and wanting him there as much as Crowley wanted his angel. 

~~~@@@~~~

That evening, Crowley helped Aziraphale out to the Bentley and drove him across to the next town. There was a very nice little restaurant there, and Crowley had actually rung up and made a reservation instead of having one appear by miracle. Well, he’d rung up. The availability of the reservation was between him and the reservations book, really. 

He offered Aziraphale his arm and led the way into the restaurant, enjoying being able to touch his angel in public. That wasn’t going to get old anytime soon, he’d only been waiting about 6000 years to be able to do it after all. 

He led Aziraphale to the table next to the fireplace of the restaurant, and pulled out the chair for his angel to sit in. 

“My dear, you spoil me,” Aziraphale whispered once he actually got a look at the menu. 

Crowley just waved a hand. “It’s not the Ritz, Angel, but I wanted to come somewhere a bit special tonight.” He waved for the waiter to come over and, after a glance at the wine list, placed an order. 

They sat, and drank, and ate delicious food, and drank some more. Aziraphale was just licking the last of his dessert off his spoon, Crowley watching avidly as he did so, when an odd feeling began to creep over him. 

“Crowley? Some...something’s wrong,” Aziraphale’s eyes darted around the restaurant. “I don’t feel good.” 

“Okay,” Crowley quickly directed attention in the restaurant away from them, miracled his credit card number onto the bill, and helped Aziraphale to his feet. “Let’s get out of here, Angel. You’ll be okay, I’ve got you.” They only made it a few steps before Aziraphale’s legs went out from under him and he collapsed towards the floor. Crowley caught him and carefully lowered him to the floor as his body began to seize. 

Crowley quickly miracled a clear space around them, tables and chairs quietly moving aside with their occupants none the wiser. He knelt just out of limb range and waited for the seizure to be over. He hated this so much, and he realised he’d been a real idiot in one way - he should have been trying to learn more about the brain these last few days. He’d had the time, but he’d avoided thinking about this possibly going on for too long. Instead, he’d focused his attention on moving their lives along. That wasn’t a bad thing but he now admitted to himself that he hadn’t wanted to consider needing to deal with this for long enough to have to actually know things that could make it worse, or things that could help for that matter. He’d only wanted to consider that this would be over soon. 

He firmly decided that that would end, right now. He would find everything he could that could help his angel, whether it was information about things that could cause, or prevent, seizures, or information on the brain to help him heal better. Hea...He...Somewhere, if he had to call down a healing angel from Heaven’s infirmary (assuming they still had one, they had during the first war) and compel them to help, he would find a way to do that. 

Whatever it took to fix this for Aziraphale, Crowley would do it. He set his teeth and waited for the seizure to be over, miracling the floor under Aziraphale to be softer to avoid exacerbating the existing bruises. 

Finally the spasms eased to twitches, then stopped altogether. Crowley carefully eased Aziraphale over onto his side, even as a waiter stepped around them without noticing their existence. 

He eased Aziraphale’s head into his lap and waited, running his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. While he was waiting, he reached out with some healing energy and began to heal some of the more surface damage. He eased the pain from bruises, strained muscles and small burns. If he couldn’t do anything else, he could ensure his angel was in as little pain as possible, and that his ethereal powers didn’t have any other injuries to try and heal. 

When Aziraphale came around he was groggy and Crowley was fairly sure he wouldn’t remember what happened for the next few minutes. He lifted him and they left the restaurant, Crowley remembering how good Aziraphale’s hand had felt on his arm when they entered and lamented that he wasn’t leaving on his feet. 

“Mmmmmph,” Aziraphale murmured against Crowley’s neck. “Love you, you foul fiend,” he pressed his lips against Crowley’s neck, and the demon only just managed not to duck away from the ticklish sensation. 

“I love you too, you terrible bastard of an angel,” he told him as he eased him into the seat of the Bentley. “We’ll be home soon, angel, we can get some rest.” 

The Bentley got them home fast, cradling Aziraphale in the carefully adjustable seat it now kept for him. The radio flicked on part way home, and Crowley rolled his eyes when ‘You’re My Best Friend’ began to play softly. He did groan when ‘Love of My Life’ came on next. 

“Really? Is that necessary?” he growled at the car, but there was no real venom in the words. The radio gave a slight burble before it resumed playing. Crowley chuckled and pressed the pedal down harder, speeding towards...towards home.


	8. Snugs, Tears and Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, we are in fact approaching the end. The story is finished and going through final edits. Thank you so much to everyone who has been coming on this journey, I'm really glad you're enjoying it!!!

Crowley sat beside Aziraphale, who was sleeping (a very strange sight and not one that Crowley had seen before all of this began) and began to research on his phone. He quickly discovered that for many seizure disorders too much wine was a real no-no, and he wondered if that was what had gone wrong tonight. It was entirely possible and he felt guilty that he had inadvertently caused the situation. 

He read a lot that night. Many of the things he read, as far as treatments to prevent seizures went, he didn’t think they could use. They required a doctor to prescribe them. He also wanted to get his hands on some actual medical texts and journals, as he wasn’t sure that he could believe what he was finding online. Online, anything could be written down - he should know, he’d used the internet often enough to stir up trouble since it became a thing. 

There was something he wanted to investigate when he could get his hands on some trustworthy literature. He was fairly sure of it, as the information had come from several different epilepsy association websites, but he wanted to hear it from a medical professional before doing anything about it. 

He decided, after some research, that a visit to London, and more specifically to the library, might be in order for tomorrow. Perhaps, if Aziraphale was feeling up to it, they could stop and take a quick look at the shop, see if there was anything else to be seen. Although, on second thought...no. Until both of them were fighting fit, he didn’t think it would be a good idea to go anywhere near Soho. 

Still, the library. Yes, that would definitely be the place to start. Or...he began researching again, and soon had several books on rush order that would miraculously bring them to him by morning, as well as several issues of the Lancet and the New England Journal of Medicine. 

Maybe, if they learnt enough about the brain they could figure out exactly what was wrong with Aziraphale and Crowley could help heal it properly. That had been the problem with healing it in the first place, he was sure. He just didn’t know enough about how the brain worked. 

With a plan in place and the books on their way, Crowley yawned hugely as he slid down in the bed to curl up against Aziraphale, slipping an arm around the angel’s plush form and snuggling in close. He fell asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes, Aziraphale held safely against him. 

~~~@@@~~~

“You ordered books?” Aziraphale demanded, eyebrows raised. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Crowley?” 

Crowley glared and the angel chuckled. The sound brought an immediate smile to Crowley’s face, and he barely managed not to beam at the angel. It was good to hear him laugh. 

“We need to know what might make things worse, Angel. For example, too much alcohol - people with seizure disorders shouldn’t have more than about two glasses a day. So that might be why you seized last night. Also, if we research enough, we might be able to find what exactly needs to be healed and how, and then maybe I can guide the healing and fix whatever I did.” 

Aziraphale had been nodding along with Crowley’s words, listening and agreeing, but at that he pulled up short, head shooting up to stare at Crowley. “You didn’t do this, Crowley,” he growled, glaring. “This wasn’t your fault, and it still isn’t. I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it, my love, you didn’t do this to me. This was all Gabriel, not you. All you did was thwart his plans and make it possible for me to stay with you. There is nowhere else I’d rather be, whatever temporary limitations I have to put up with. They will be temporary,” he grabbed Crowley’s hand and squeezed it firmly, “and putting up with them will absolutely be worth it. I’m with you, my love, what more could I want?” 

Crowley uttered a soft sob, collapsing forwards and pressing his face against Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale moved to wrap his free arm around Crowley’s back and pressed a kiss to the back of the demon’s head. 

“I love you, my dear,” he whispered. “I love you more than anything on this earth. Look at what I was willing to risk to save the earth, my dearest, I would risk far more to save you.” 

Crowley gave a massive sob, his shoulders heaving, then collapsed weeping. All of the stress, everything that had happened in the past few days crashed in on him at once while Aziraphale held him and whispered soft, gentle words. He didn’t try to stop his demon’s tears, instead focusing on making sure he knew he wasn’t alone. 

It was some time later when Crowley finally managed to stop crying, and Aziraphale smiled gently at him as he finally moved back. “How about some tea, love?” Aziraphale suggested, and when Crowley nodded he stood and led the way back to the kitchen. Revelling in his now mostly pain-free movements, Aziraphale filled the kettle and placed it on the stove, starting the gas to bring it to the boil. 

Once he had prepared the teapot, Aziraphale sat down and while he waited for it to steep he laid out a number of biscuits on a plate, poured milk into the cups, then finally poured the tea over the milk. He placed a cup in front of Crowley, who was watching him prepare it with a soft expression on his face. 

“So, we’ll research what I actually need, and go from there?” Aziraphale confirmed. “Sounds good, Crowley. Now, how does the garden look? Any particular plans you want to put in place?” 

“Well,” Crowley thought for a moment, “I was considering maybe adding a greenhouse, down the side of the house? I thought a proper glass one, give me plenty of space for starting seedlings and also keep some more fragile plants that I’ve been able to supply the correct environment for in London. Can’t expect perfection if you aren’t providing them what they need to attain it, after all.” 

“That sounds lovely, my dear,” Aziraphale said, even as he frowned slightly at the phrasing. He leant back in his chair and decided to let it go for now. “We’ll also need to go furniture shopping soon, to furnish the rest of the house. Also…” Aziraphale took a deep breath, then continued, “I would very much like to start looking for estate sales and auctions, to begin rebuilding my collection. It...won’t be the same, but replacing some of the books would be nice.” 

Crowley nodded, smiling wryly. He’d known that was coming, and had planned on suggesting it if Aziraphale hadn’t done so. He took a sip of his tea and sat back with a contented sigh. If circumstances were only slightly different, things would be virtually perfect right now. 

~~~@@@~~~

Crowley took the books from the delivery driver and went back inside the house, leaving him to return to his van and drive away. Aziraphale was lying down on the fainting couch, having swiftly tired after they had had tea, and Crowley set himself up in a nearby armchair, quickly opening the package of books and laying them out before him. He wasn’t quite sure where to start, but he ended up looking through the book on seizure disorders to see what it had to say about the potential treatment he had read about the night before. It was listed as a useful treatment, but Crowley quickly realised he was going to need some further information before he would know exactly how to go about acquiring what he needed for this. 

He thought he could get his hands on the plants he needed easily enough, it was the extraction process he wasn’t quite sure about. Apparently the helpful compounds were found in the stem, not the leaf, of the plant and they also didn’t create the side effects that many found undesirable. While he wouldn’t have cared if he did have to deal with a high angel, it would be easier if he could avoid him getting high in the first place. 

Crowley wasn’t worried about the illegality of growing his own marijuana, why would he be? He didn’t care about the law, never had except for when he was breaking it deliberately or getting others to do so. However, he didn’t really want to be having to break police computers to get rid of reports of him growing marijuana, and if all he did was hypnotise anyone who came to investigate and send them away they would come back again and again. 

Once he understood that the oil could, indeed, be a highly efficacious treatment to prevent seizures, he went online again and did some research into how to extract the oils. Several sites gave mostly-matching descriptions of the process, to assist people in obtaining the oil for the purpose of treating a variety of ailments. Crowley read through them and once he understood what was needed he nodded. He could manage this easily enough, he was sure. 

Crowley noted that he would need to go and steal a few marijuana plants from the crop he knew was nearby his old apartment. That really would necessitate a trip back into the city, which would give him an opportunity to spoil his angel. 

Now that he had a plan on that front, Crowley turned his attention to reading the text on the functions of a healthy brain. He quickly felt like his eyes were crossing, and he realised that this might be more work than he had thought. He found several websites that helped explain the terminology as he went and stubbornly persevered, determined that he wasn’t going to let it beat him. 

~~~@@@~~~

Aziraphale sat beside Crowley in the Bentley, one hand worrying the well-worn corner of his waistcoat. Crowley was familiar enough with the habit to know that his angel was nervous about something, and perceptive enough to realise that that something was their upcoming trip back into London. However, he wasn’t sure what about the trip had Aziraphale so on edge. The plan was that they would go, Crowley would acquire the plants, then they would have something to eat and go home. 

“Angel? You alright?” Crowley reached over the intervening space and captured Aziraphale’s right hand, twining their fingers together even as he kept half an eye on how the Bentley was taking the road. Really, the car could take care of itself - possibly even more than it could before Nopemageddon. 

“I...No, Crowley, I’m not alright,” Aziraphale’s free hand twisted harder on his waistcoat, and Crowley started looking around for somewhere to pull over. 

“What’s wrong, Angel? Are you feeling sick? Headache?” He racked his brain, trying to remember the pre-seizure symptoms he’d studied up on the night before were. 

“No, no, nothing like that,” Aziraphale tried to flap the hand Crowley was holding, but Crowley kept hold of it, rubbing his thumb across the back, feeling the bones shift under the skin. Seeing a scenic lookout up ahead, he pulled the Bentley over and threw it in park, then turned to face Aziraphale fully. 

“It’s okay, Angel. I’m here,” he ran an assessing gaze over Aziraphale’s features, taking in the drawn expression and slight pallor. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

Aziraphale shook his head, shoulders shuddering slightly. “It’s...I’m being ridiculous, Crowley, it’s nothing,” he tried to dismiss it, but Crowley shook his head. 

“It’s not nothing, and you aren’t ridiculous. If something’s upsetting you, Aziraphale, I want to know about it. We’re in this together, Angel. I love you, I hope you know that.” 

Aziraphale pressed his lips together, eyes gaining a visible sheen, and his breath hitched. “What if...what if he’s waiting for us, Crowley? I just...my entire existence, Gabriel has enjoyed popping up behind me when I’m not expecting it, making me jump, and now...what if he’s waiting for us to come back to London to try again?” He shook his head, tears starting to slip down his cheeks. “Love, if he hurt you, I don’t…” Aziraphale shook his head, lost for words at that point, the horrors behind his eyes swamping him. 

Crowley made a soft, inarticulate sound, and scooted across the bench seat, wrapping both arms around Aziraphale and hushing him gently. The angel buried his face in Crowley’s shoulder and wept, his body jerking with the force of his sobs. The pent-up fear of six millennia of being on his toes, never knowing when Gabriel would make one of his surprise, supposedly friendly visits, all poured out of him at once. Every startle from a sudden appearance, every too-firm clap on the shoulder, all bound together in the horror of the too-clear memories of the destruction of his shop were overwhelming. 

Aziraphale shook in the shelter of Crowley’s arms, hands fisting in the demon’s jacket. Crowley murmured and gently rubbed his back, feeling hopeless. “What can I do, Angel? What do you need?” 

“Hold me tighter, please?” Aziraphale managed to stutter out. Crowley wrapped his arms tighter around the angel, but the shaking didn’t lessen and Aziraphale’s breath was becoming more ragged rather than less. Making a snap decision, Crowley miracled the Bentley, and the two of them, back to the cottage. He slid his arms around Aziraphale, slid him across the car seat and out the door, grateful once again that he was so much stronger and more flexible than a human. He carried Aziraphale back inside, into their bedroom, and settled him on the bed. 

“Just...give me a moment, okay, love?” He gently disengaged Aziraphale’s hands from his jacket, forcing himself to ignore the piteous whine the angel emitted, and then he transformed. Moments later, almost thirty feet of constrictor-bodied serpent slithered its way up onto the bed and began wrapping the angel in its warm, comforting coils. Crowley wrapped himself around his angel completely, ending with his head snuggled up against the underside of Aziraphale’s jaw. Then he began, a few millimeters at a time, to tighten his grip until Aziraphale was compressed around his entire torso. Finally, Aziraphale began to calm, the deep pressure allowing him to catch his breath and relax into Crowley’s hold. 

“There you go, love,” Crowley hissed, nuzzling the angel’s jaw. He sighed, thinking of exactly how to say what he needed to. “Angel, I wish I could tell you that your fears are unfounded and we are safe. I think you probably know how much I wish that. Unfortunately I can’t say that because it’s simply not true.” Crowley didn’t pause to allow that to sink in, instead rushing on to offer reassurance. “Still, Aziraphale, we have done everything we can to be safe. We also can’t live our lives in fear. We will keep each other safe, we have so far, and we will continue to do so. Yeah?” 

Aziraphale nodded rapidly, eyes bright but tears no longer flowing. “You’re right, love. But...Crowley, I have no power now. I can’t hold up my end of that bargain, I can’t protect YOU, and I don’t know…” 

“Okay, Angel. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to call Book Girl and see if any of those clever ideas she helped me incorporate here in the cottage can be made more portable. If we can get something that keeps us basically off the radar even away from here, do you think that would help?” 

Aziraphale nodded again, and Crowley gave him an extra squeeze, taking care not to stress his ribs even if there was no sign of the damage they had had so recently. He decided, as Aziraphale fully relaxed within his coils, that the call could wait. Holding his angel was enough for now.


	9. Filling the cracks with gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to let me know what they've enjoyed about this story! And thank you to the wonderful slateblueflowers for being an amazing beta!

It took a full fortnight to go from ‘that idea is completely ludicrous and impossible’ to a functional object that allowed the pair of them to leave the cottage while remaining undetectable to both heaven and hell, as far as they could tell. It was a disconcerting thing, as it even hid their own occult (or ethereal) nature from the other, and for the first time Aziraphale and Crowley couldn’t sense each other. The only exception was when they were in physical contact, and Aziraphale and Crowley both made it a point to maintain some kind of touch as much as was physically possible, fingers laced together, arms around waists and heads on shoulders all increasingly common elements in their day that neither of them were complaining about. 

Aziraphale had had two seizures the afternoon of the day Crowley had miracled them back to the cottage. Crowley had, after some further research, discovered that what he had thought he needed to acquire illegally and make himself was in fact a recognised treatment and available from pharmacies. (1) He had snapped up something that would be accepted as a prescription and Newt had been very grateful to escape from the discussion (argument) about how to make the impossible possible. He had returned with the medication, and Crowley had then had to do a great deal more research to figure out dosage. One thing that had recurred more frequently than the seizures was the aphasia. Aziraphale had multiple instances where his speech had become scrambled, each as upsetting as the first. 

The recommended dosage for an adult male, he learnt, was 10-20mg/kg/day. Crowley had decided to follow a recommendation to have three doses through the day, and to go with the higher end of the dosage, figuring that with their increased tolerance for intoxicants that may well also carry over to this. 

Aziraphale had only had two seizures in the week and a half since he had started taking CBD. The improvement in his general outlook from that fact alone was enormous, and he had taken an active part in creating the miniaturised ward schema the two of them were wearing stitched into their undershirts. Now they were finally heading back to London, Aziraphale clearly far more relaxed even as he held Crowley’s hand. They didn’t have the same reasons to go to London, but there was a rare book auction taking place and Crowley had discovered that copies of several volumes that had not made it out of the shop at all would be a part of the sale. He was absolutely determined that he would get them for his angel. 

So, dressed to the nines, Aziraphale in a creamy tuxedo with long tails and a tartan bowtie and Crowley in a slim cut black tux, very classically Bond if he did say so himself, they were heading to Sotheby’s of London. 

Crowley pulled the Bentley into one of his usual not particularly legal parks and helped Aziraphale out of the passenger seat. They walked arm-in-arm (and that was a glorious freedom that Crowley had never thought to actually possess) into the building. They drew a few looks, several people who recognised Aziraphale and obviously knew what had happened stared wide eyed before turning away, whispers spreading through the crowd. They circled the room, examining the lots closely. Aziraphale gave a huff more than once that Crowley knew indicated something wrong with a book, but he didn’t pull any of the staff aside as he would have had he found a forgery. The whispers followed in their wake even as they moved in a small circle of silence. 

Aziraphale held slightly tighter to Crowley’s arm but otherwise seemed to be ignoring the whispers. Crowley held his head up, glared at a few of the more blatant of those staring, and escorted Aziraphale to a seat. He may have largely recovered, but he still tired quickly. Crowley was fairly sure that it was in some way related to whatever was going on with the angel’s brain. He had his bidding paddle already and was registered with the auction house (they had been very pleased to see him, and a lot more polite about it than the crowd). 

They (read: Crowley) had timed their arrival to give them just long enough to look everything over briefly before the start of the auction. The weight of Crowley’s expectation kept everything running on schedule, not that Sotheby’s needed much help in that department. Regardless, when the bell rang, everyone was in their seats and prepared. 

Crowley was well aware that they were probably going to walk away with almost everything that was up for sale tonight. It wasn’t like Aziraphale couldn’t afford it, and the insurance that was taking care of fixing up the building in Soho (Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it, but it needed to be fixed either way) was also paying out on all of the books. The cheque would have been a staggering amount to any mortal. Aziraphale and Crowley though didn’t really do money. They expected things to work, and not to get bills for them, so they did and they didn’t. 

Crowley saw the first book come up - a misprint bible - and Aziraphale’s grip tightened on his paddle. It was going to be a good night, Crowley decided, even if he would have to miracle the Bentley into holding more than the laws of physics thought was possible.

~~~@@@~~~

After the auction, where as Crowley surmised Aziraphale bid on almost everything except the few lots he had huffed at (2), they went for a late dinner at Aziraphale’s favourite sushi restaurant, and the owner’s expression when they walked through the doors together was priceless. His eyes went wide and his jaw actually hung open for a moment before a wide grin spread across his face.

“Aziraphale-san! You are alright! Please, come and sit, and Crowley-san too! No one was sure if you were alright after…” the man stopped talking, clearly not sure what to say. Aziraphale smiled gently, the new books he had acquired cushioning the blow that was his loss enough that the reference was not immediately upsetting. 

“Yes, quite alright, thank you, Chef. We’ll take a table for two rather than the counter though, I’m afraid I’m rather too tired to sit on a stool.” Crowley was already gently tugging Aziraphale towards a booth as the angel was almost swaying on his feet. 

“Of course, sit, sit, my friend. May I bring you some tea while I prepare your favourites? And Crowley-San, would you prefer your usual vegetarian selection?” 

Crowley and Aziraphale both agreed to that plan, and the chef left them sitting at their table, although the uptick in noise in the kitchen indicated a certain level of excitement. Given that they were the only customers in the restaurant, Crowley allowed himself to relax more fully, leaning back into the plush cushioning of the booth. 

“I really don’t understand how you can eat raw fish, Angel,” he admitted with a shrug. “Just can’t get past the texture myself. Like the oysters before you told me to stop chewing, but worse.” 

Aziraphale chuckled at the habitual comment from the demon and shrugged. “Clearly we are having quite a different experience, my darling. I find the different textures - the resistance of the nori, the soft give of the rice and the crunch of the vegetables, all combined with the much softer resistance of the fish to be a delightful combination.” 

“Yes, but you also eat sashimi, Angel, and that’s just raw fish,” Crowley objected. Aziraphale shrugged. Salmon sashimi was, after all, a delight. He could not deny that. The chef reappeared to place a pot of green tea on their table along with two glasses. 

“Would you care for some sake with your meal, Aziraphale-san?” 

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, seeking his advice. While Aziraphale had also read the research Crowley had found, he still liked to have a second opinion on whether or not something was recommended for his situation. Crowley thought about it, considering the content level of the sake they had had previously in the shop, and shook his head. 

“Best not, Angel,” he told Aziraphale, who shrugged and accepted his word. The chef returned to the kitchen, unsure what he had just witnessed. Azirahale-san had never turned down a cup of sake before. Glancing back, he saw Aziraphale smile and reach for Crowley’s hand, and caught a soft whisper. 

“Thanks for taking care of me, Crowley. You’re...I appreciate it.” Frowning with thought, but less concerned than he had been, the chef turned back to the kitchen. His grandfather had spent some time figuring out exactly what Aziraphale-san’s favourites were, and while he occasionally tried something new he always had a plate of those. The family always appreciated it when Aziraphale-san came to the restaurant and gave them an opportunity to repay him for saving his father’s father in more ways than one. 

The sushi was, as always, perfection, and Crowley watched Aziraphale eat it with obvious enjoyment before escorting him, yawning, back out to the Bentley. The back of the Bentley was completely packed with boxes, and Crowley allowed himself a satisfied smirk at the sight. There had been a great many frustrated buyers at tonight’s auction. Opening the passenger door, then closing it behind Aziraphale, he took in one last breath of London air before crossing to the driver’s side door. 

Aziraphale, in the few seconds he had been alone in the car, had started worrying at his waistcoat again. When Crowley shut his own door, he startled slightly and turned to look at him. 

“Angel? What’s wrong?” Crowley looked him over quickly but nothing in particular stood out, no extremes of pallor or flush on his cheeks nor a body part held as though it was causing pain. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Crowley, I just...do you think we could drive past? I...I need to see…” he trailed off, but Crowley understood. 

“I think we can, Angel, if you’re sure. We don’t have to, you know. No one is going to force you to see it.” 

Aziraphale frowned then nodded decisively. “I need to see it, Crowley. Will you drive us?” 

“Anywhere you wanna go, Angel,” Crowley reminded him, starting the engine and putting the pedal to the floor, launching into traffic. He knew every route to the bookshop by heart, and zipped around cars now to get them there as quickly as possible, not wanting to drag this out for his angel. Aziraphale’s hands were fast worrying new holes in his waistcoat, and Crowley noted he would need to visit his tailor soon to replace it. He may have kept his coat in tip-top condition (one or two demonic miracles aside) for more than one hundred years, but he went through waistcoats like...well, like they were going out of style. 

They rounded the last corner and the bookshop came into view. Crowley pulled the Bentley over to idle then reached out and gently took one of Azirphale’s hands, disengaging it from its grip on the hem of the waistcoat. 

Aziraphale, who had been gazing down at the floor of the Bentley, startled when the car came to a standstill, his unneeded breath catching in his throat. When Crowley took his hand, he hesitantly raised his eyes to look out through the windshield. He stared at the shattered remains of his nest. The clean up had clearly been underway for a while, the only thing inside the shop was support struts, clearly intended to keep the building from collapsing and damaging the shops on either side. Tears welled in his eyes and his breath caught on a sob as he stared, then he turned his face away. 

“Take me home, please, love?” he managed to get out and Crowley squeezed his fingers gently even as he urged the Bentley out into traffic, no miracle needed to make the car act like the automatic it most assuredly wasn’t. Home. The word was almost as sweet in Crowley’s ears as the last word of the sentence. 

Crowley had not kept up on the laws surrounding the legalisation of marijuana; he hadn’t kept up on many laws at all, really, except for when he wanted to flout them. He had, however, been well aware that it was illegal or at least had been for quite some time, so he hadn’t even taken into consideration that it might not be anymore when he’d been doing his research.

This had, in fact, resulted in a very poor price for those few lots, as everyone was sure that Mr. Fell must have found them lacking in some extreme way. As it turned out, on later discussion, the authors of those particular volumes had, on separate occasions, been incredibly rude to the angel and he had made it a point to never own any work of theirs ever again.


	10. on sunglasses, leather jackets and imperfect things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [@slateblueflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slateblueflowers/pseuds/slateblueflowers/) for an amazing beta job as always! Thank you to everyone who is reading, kudosing, commenting and enjoying the story, I'm so happy you like it!

Crowley frowned at the textbook in his hands, then set it down to cross-reference with another. He still couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong with Aziraphale’s healing, with the exception of his own uncertainty when he started it. He did think the reason Aziraphale was still without miracles was because all his ethereal energy was caught up in trying to fix his corporation, and Crowley was fairly sure that understanding exactly what was wrong with it was key to that. 

The problem was that neither of them knew enough to figure it out. Oh, they had been trying, tirelessly, to research the issue and come up with the answers, but nothing seemed to fit. Aziraphale had had another seizure the afternoon before, a bad one that had lasted several minutes, and it had left him lethargic and snappish. Crowley was becoming more and more convinced that unless they could get a human to look at Aziraphale’s brain and explain what was wrong with it (if they even could) this simply wasn’t going to work. There was too much, it was too complicated, and even humans didn’t understand everything about the brain yet. He closed the book with a frustrated sigh. They were going to have to find a way to get a human expert to examine Aziraphale and not notice all the things that weren’t quite right but notice the thing that was actually wrong? Forget hiding themselves, this really did sound impossible. 

He buried his face in his hands, guilt rising within him once again. This was all his fault, he had done this to his angel and now he couldn’t even figure out how to fix it. Aziraphale was existing in a broken corporation with no miracles because of Crowley. Every time the angel snapped his fingers and nothing happened, Crowley saw something inside him break a little more. He hated it, hated that he had done that. Throwing himself up out of his chair, he made his way to the room where his house plants were installed. Ensuring that the door was closed and the silencing miracle was still in place (Aziraphale didn’t need to hear what he had to say to his plants) he picked up the mister and began his rounds. 

~~~@@@~~~

Crowley left the plant room, a medium sized pot held against his hip. He slammed the door shut behind him and walked in icy-seeming silence through the house. Finally, he reached another door and went through. He set the pot down on a bench, and the leaves increased their trembling ten-fold, waiting to see what happened next. Crowley picked up a small black object from the bench, and if plants could flinch this one would have. 

Crowley slipped the pair of sunglasses onto the pot so that they rested on the top edge, then wrapped the pot in the little faux leather jacket. 

“Congratulations, you’ve fallen,” he told the plant, picking it up once more and carrying it to the back door, out of the laundry. The plant felt sunlight on its leaves and stretched them up, trying to show how good it was at photosynthesis, how well it would grow for him, but Crowley just set it down beside the door in the sun. “You’re your own plant now,” he said. “Grow for yourself, not for me.” 

He turned to go back into the house and found Aziraphale watching him from the doorway, a soft smile playing about his lips. “Spots again, dear?” 

“Hmmm,” was all Crowley allowed. 

“You know, things don’t have to be perfect for people to want them around,” Aziraphale wrapped an arm around Crowley’s waist as he came closer and tugged him into a hug. “The world is never perfect, and it’s when people claim that they are that things can hurt the most. Imperfection isn’t wrong, or bad, it’s just life.” He pecked a kiss against Crowley’s cheek. “The whole world is full of imperfect beings, and most of them are just trying to do their best. Why should we be any different?” He drew Crowley further into the cottage and Crowley went willingly. The sight of so many empty rooms reminded him that, despite the length of their residence at the cottage swiftly approaching a month, they still had not fully furnished the place. 

They could, of course, miracle up furniture if they wanted. Rather, at this exact moment, Crowley could, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to go out with Aziraphale and choose the furniture they would have, the human way. He had acquired a bed for them, but he fully intended to replace it as soon as they got around to going shopping, as it wasn’t quite to either of their tastes. 

“Let’s go shopping, Angel,” he turned in Aziraphale’s grip and smiled down at him. “Let’s go choose the furniture we want to fill our home with. Get you a lovely kitchen table to cover in baked goods,” Crowley didn’t mention the quality, or lack thereof, of Aziraphale’s experiments in baking so far, “get a new bed, one we both really like. Let’s furnish our house, our nest, together.” 

The smile that bloomed on Aziraphale’s face was enormous. “Together?” he whispered, and Crowley nodded emphatically. 

“This isn’t just my house, or just yours, it’s ours. So we’ll do it together.” 

~~~@@@~~~

Six hours later, Crowley was wondering about the wisdom of his decision. They had chosen bedroom furnishings, and things for the kitchen without any major issues, but when it came to bookshelves, well. Aziraphale couldn’t seem to decide on anything. Oh, he liked plenty of things, but he was never certain about them. Finally, after Aziraphale gazed longingly at yet another beautiful, although not that different from the last, bookshelf, Crowley decided enough was enough. The angel was starting to sway slightly with exhaustion, but he was still unable to make a choice when it came to the furniture. 

“Angel, let’s just take some home, yeah? If you decide you don’t like them in situ, we can bring them back and change them. Honestly, I think they’re all lovely and they will all look amazing. They’ve got the shelf height and depth that you need, and the wood is beautiful. Let’s just buy some and see how they fit, okay?” 

“Oh, alright, darling. I’m sorry I’m being so ridiculous,” Aziraphale blushed with embarrassment, then set a hand on the shelving unit he’d just been looking at. It would fit floor to ceiling in any of the rooms in the cottage, and the dark wood would look outstanding. “These ones really are lovely,” he stroked a hand over the silky-smooth timber. “We’ll take these.” Crowley wrapped an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of his head before nodding to the sales assistant, who managed not to heave a sigh of relief. 

“Lovely. How many units will you be wanting?” the woman asked. This had been an amazing sale, part of the reason for the lack of sigh (the other was simply that while the uncertainty had been hard to take the two were so ridiculously cute together she’d been able to appreciate that). The pair were paying extra for same day delivery, although the bookshelves were going to have to wait, and with the cost of the very high quality bedroom and kitchen furnishings as well as the multiple shelf units they were now counting up the commission was looking very nice indeed. 

Furniture sorted and delivery organised, Crowley half-carried an exhausted angel out to the car. It disappointed but didn’t surprise him when Aziraphale had a seizure almost as soon as they were home, and he was glad he’d decided against going out for something to eat. After the seizure, they sat on the couch together, Aziraphale curled into Crowley’s chest. A few tears seeped into his chest and he gave a comforting murmur. Aziraphale shook his head, frustration getting the better of him as more tears began to flow. 

“This is...Crowley, I can’t keep doing this to you!” Aziraphale pushed himself upright. “You can’t put your whole life on hold for me!” 

Crowley blinked, surprised. “Aziraphale, Angel, what exactly do you think I’ve put on hold for you? We’re here, we’re together, and that’s really all I want. I don’t understand what you’re talking about. All I want is to be with you.” He raised Aziraphale’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, then raised Aziraphale’s damp face by the chin and pressed a kiss to his forehead, each cheek and a brief peck to his lips. “I love you, Aziraphale. I love you. We have the rest of eternity to spend together. If anything, this has sped up some of our timelines, because we’re already here, in our own home. You aren’t doing anything to me, Angel. If I’m not responsible for what’s happening to us, and you’ve very clearly told me I’m not, then you’re not responsible either.

Aziraphale sobbed and wrapped his arms tight around Crowley. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled over and over. Crowley just wrapped his arms around him and decided to ride it out. Aziraphale needed this release, Crowley was sure. Finally the tears tapered off, and they sat together in calm quiet, each holding on to the centre of their personal universe. 

Now that Aziraphale had finished dehydrating, Crowley knew he needed liquids. A brief miracle brought the tea set from the kitchen to sit gently steaming on the coffee table. Crowley gently disengaged from their snuggle session to pour two cups, and Aziraphale shifted to sit on the couch and accept his cup. 

“I think we can both agree, Angel, that there is no blame for anything in this situation, except for blaming Gabriel. This is a situation of neither of our makings, and neither of us blames the other nor wants the other to blame themselves, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Aziraphale nodded, clearly tired, and smiled softly at Crowley. “Thank you, love.” 

~~~@@@~~~

After that, life settled into a peaceful round. They devoted some time every day to research, but Aziraphale had put his foot down early on that Crowley was not to spend all his time on that. They slept, ate, spent time together and apart doing various settling in activities around the cottage. They arranged their new and existing furniture into more pleasing configurations, putting their stamp on the space and really making it theirs. 

Crowley organised the design and construction of his new greenhouse, having decided against miracling one up. He really did prefer things that were done the human way, now that he had that option. 

Aziraphale repaired his books, and arranged them on the new shelves a few at a time. Crowley terrorised his plants as he settled them into their new home, even as he gave each of them what they needed to thrive. Aziraphale snuck in behind him and spread comfort, which led to Crowley pouting at him for ‘spoiling’ the plants. Aziraphale repeated his reminder to Crowley that they didn’t need to be perfect, and Crowley had clapped a hand over the angel’s mouth, dragging him away and muttering about the utter mutiny he was in danger of inspiring. 

They continued their trips out into the village and surrounds, including doing some stargazing (assisted a very helpful blackout that didn’t take out any essential equipment). They had gone to three separate book auctions and one estate sale, at which Crowley had come away with some beautiful orchids in addition to Aziraphale’s books. 

~~~@@@~~~

The two immortal beings were sitting together in the living room, reading yet another journal article on brain injury induced seizures. Aziraphale frowned as he read, thinking. “This is...it all seems like it fits, Crowley, don’t you think?” 

“I think it does, Angel. So, left temporal lobe damage. Now we know where we’re looking. If we just knew exactly what we were looking for…”

“Crowley, what if…” Aziraphale trailed off, frowning in thought. 

“What if what, Angel?” Crowley prompted after a moment. 

“What if you examined some other brains to compare to mine? So you can look for obvious differences? Now that we know which part of the brain is the most likely culprit, if you examine a few real human brains, then you could probably identify the issue?” 

Crowley sat back, eyes wide. There it was. There was the missing piece he had needed. “Angel, you’re a genius,” he declared, and Aziraphale blushed at the praise. “I’ll do some reading on brain studies, figure out what we need to see those sections of the brain in action, and then I’ll organise some brains.” 

“Completely voluntary I trust, my dear? I can’t imagine that you would get good results from people you have compelled to participate.” 

“Nah, Angel, all voluntary, I promise,” Crowley reassured. “Nothing to worry about whatsoever.”


	11. This is my family.  I found it, all on my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are! We have reached the end. I am not ruling out, nor am I promising, an epilogue. I am extremely grateful to the wonderful [@slateblueflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slateblueflowers/pseuds/slateblueflowers) for being such an incredible beta reader!!! Also to everyone who has taken the time to read, comment, kudos and otherwise enjoy this story, I'm so glad you've all come on this journey with me.

The Them (brought from Tadfield by Newt and Anathema in the backseat of Dick Turpin), Newt, Anathema, Miss Tracey and Sergeant Shadwell all perched, sat, and sprawled in various positions around the new dining room table, staring bemused at the objects strewn across the table which included several simple toys and a stack of photographs. 

“It’s quite simple, really,” Crowley explained as Aziraphale poured tea, adding milk and sugar in the necessary quantities. “One at a time, you’ll do each exercise. I’ll be scanning your brain for activity during each…”

“Yer nah gettin’ yer filth inta mah head, laddie!” roared Shadwell, shooting to his feet. “There’ll be nai devils pokin’ aboot in mah brain!” 

‘Thank Someone for that,’ Crowley thought but didn’t say. He’d been prepared, in order to keep the peace, to go through the motions with Shadwell but since he was quite certain the human’s brain was not precisely healthy he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to trust the results. 

“No, that’s quite alright, Sergeant. This is a strictly voluntary operation,” Aziraphale stepped in to smooth ruffled feathers. Shadwell huffed but sat back down, glaring around indiscriminately. 

“Well you can do mine!” Burst out Adam.

“And me!”

“Me too!” 

“Definitely want you to do mine!” Burst out the rest of the Them, and Crowley sighed. He hadn’t actually intended for the children to come, or to be involved once they had. Were children’s brains even the same as adult brains? 

“Adam, I really don’t want to look in your brain, no offense,” Crowley informed the now very pouty former Antichrist. “Is the function of a child’s brain different from the function of an adult brain?” 

“Moderately so,” Miss Tracey replied. “The chemical composition is quite different, and it only gets more different as it goes through puberty and then into adulthood. So, children, it may be better if Mr. Crowley doesn’t go poking around in your brains.”

The Them groaned theatrically, but accepted Aziraphale’s peace offering of cake and tea readily enough. 

“Ngggk, right, so, first, you’ll hold an ice cube, then dip your hand in the warm water. You’ll then look at each of the pictures before seeing how quickly you can get all the pieces into this,” he gestured to the last object on the table, which after a moment his audience recognised as a Tupperware Shape-O toy. “With the different types of stimuli I should get a good look at exactly how your brain reacts.” He glanced around the table and took in the nervous expressions of the adults arrayed before him. “So. Who’s going to go first?” 

They glanced at each other, gazes darting around the room, and when no one spoke up after several long moments Miss Tracey heaved a sigh. “Ah, I suppose I’ve had one of you rummaging around up there, I can’t imagine that another could do any particular damage.” 

She moved to sit directly beside Crowley, who stood and moved behind her, setting his hands lightly on either side of her head. He first examined her brain at rest, learning the structure and basic electrical activity when she was simply sitting. She went through each of the exercises in turn, shivering holding the ice block, hissing at the heat of the warm water after the ice, chuckling at one photo, breath catching in sorrow at the next. Finally she lifted the Shape-O and released the pieces from the centre in a clatter of plastic, then speedily set about returning them each through their own hole. Once completed, she set it down with a sigh. 

“I didn’t feel anything, certainly nothing like…” she trailed off, glancing at Aziraphale then away. “Did you get what you need?” 

“Think so. I guess we’ll find out,” Crowley shrugged. With Miss Tracey’s reassurance and example, the others were happy enough to carry out the simple activities. Crowley observed each in turn, watching exactly how their brain reacted to each stimulus. 

Once he had scanned everyone, he turned to look at Aziraphale, who was sitting, washing his hands against each other, clearly nervous. 

“It’s alright, love,” Aziraphale tried to smile encouragingly at Crowley, who almost laughed at the idea that he was the one who needed reassurance in this situation. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll keep trying. We’ll still have each other, no matter what else happens to us.” 

Crowley, who had been preparing similar reassurances for Aziraphale, smiled and crossed to his side. “Your turn, love,” Crowley cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, running his fingers back and into Aziraphale’s hair. Crowley carefully observed the activity patterns in Aziraphale’s brain, looking for anything that differed from the brains of their human friends. There was something there, teasing at the edges of his perception, but he couldn’t put his finger on it yet. Aziraphale lifted the ice block and cupped it in his palm. The sensation of wrongness increased, and Crowley concentrated on Aziraphale’s left temporal lobe. It was where they had thought the problem most likely was, however Crowley hadn’t wanted to eliminate the possibility of the damage being elsewhere. 

As Aziraphale completed each of the activities, Crowley’s search tightened further and further, and then...there it was. A tiny speck, it seemed, in the grand scheme of things. Crowley moved from being a mere observer, reshaping his energy so incredibly carefully, with tiny touches, to feel out the edges of the blight he could now feel. He drew closer to it, the damage growing larger as he neared it, his perception shrinking down far beyond what any human was capable of. 

He stroked the edges of the damage, trying to feel out what was wrong with it. It was more than a bruise, but less than tissue death, which he had feared. Crowley carefully, so, so carefully, spread healing over and through each and every damaged cell of Aziraphale’s corporation, soothing and righting them until he was certain that Aziraphale’s brain would work correctly once more. 

Crowley carefully withdrew his awareness from Aziraphale’s corporation, coming back to find himself still standing beside Aziraphale’s chair, but those were the only things in the room that were the same. The humans were gone - sharpening his hearing he discovered them in the kitchen. He felt weak, rung out, and collapsed backwards onto his chair. Aziraphale’s eyes were shut, his face serene. 

“Aziraphale? Love, wake up,” Crowley cupped his cheek, ignoring the slight shaking of his hands. 

“Mmmmph...Crowley,” Aziraphale opened his eyes and smiled at him. 

“How are you feeling, Aziraphale?” Crowley eyed him critically, trying to gauge his condition. 

“I feel...right,” Aziraphale said after a moment of thought, trying to put the sensations he was experiencing into words. 

“Can you…” Crowley raised his hand and made a gesture like clicking, although he didn’t actually try and miracle anything up. 

Aziraphale frowned, looking down at his hands, then raised one of them and clicked. Immediately, a steaming pot of tea - and the rest of the tea service - appeared on the table. An annoyed cry came from the kitchen, betraying how the tea had come to be brewed, then a veritable stampede approached, the children spilling into the room in a flurry of limbs and exclamations, the adults following beside them at a more sedate pace. 

Crowley sat back with a satisfied sigh, watching everything move around him. Things weren’t perfect, and there would always be some pain from what Gabriel had done to them, but life was going on. It was changing and growing in new and wondrous ways, and he and Aziraphale would have each other through it all. He reached out with a smile and threaded his fingers through Aziraphale’s, raising the angel’s hand to his lips. Aziraphale beamed at him, reaching for the teapot with his free hand. Yes, Crowley decided, it might not be perfect but it was very, very good.


	12. Epilogue: Sunny Snuggles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I didn't promise but Slate asked really really nicely. So go thank them for this: [@slateblueflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slateblueflowers/pseuds/slateblueflowers). If you have enjoyed this story, please come and check out my new stories:  
> Guiding Light, a guardian angel AU (happy ending guaranteed, mortality will not be an issue) here: [Guilding Light by aurora_beam & LTRisBACK](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26044792)  
> Pointe Towards a Brighter Future, a story inspired by the 12 Dancing Princesses fairytale. No one knows where Prince Aziraphale disappears to every night, but his brother the Prince Regent Gabriel is determined that his secret will be found out, and to find out he offers Aziraphale's hand in marriage to whoever can uncover his secret. You can read it here: [Pointe Towards a Brighter Future by LTRisBACK](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26745658)

Crowley walked through the halls of the cottage, running a fingertip along the wood of the bookshelves that now lined one side of the space. The shelves were really beginning to fill up now, and they might not hold a candle to Aziraphale’s original collection, considering that he had had books that hadn’t existed elsewhere in the world. Still, compared to the few boxes they had arrived here with, this was a wonderful sight. 

Reaching the backdoor he exited out into the sunshine on the stone patio. He smiled at the sight that met his eyes. Sitting on a sun lounger, a hat angled down over his face and wearing a short sleeved shirt with denim overalls over the top, feet bare, was Aziraphale. Crowley crossed to him and crouched, slipping a finger under the brim of the straw hat and tilted it up enough to see the angel’s face. 

Aziraphale’s eyes flickered open and he regarded the demon with affectionate amusement, stretching slightly, then reached out and grasped Crowley’s upper arms. With a tug and a squawk Crowley found himself on the suddenly reinforced lounger, spread on top of the angel who gave a satisfied sigh and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist. His hat vanished to the table with a silent miracle, and he smiled into Crowley’s face where it was now perched above his. 

Crowley scowled down at him for a long moment, then the corner of his mouth twitched. He leant down and pressed his forehead to Aziraphale’s, and the angel beamed up at him, eyes sparkling. Crowley shifted and dropped a soft kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead, then on the bridge of his nose, the tip of his nose, then a soft press of lips to lips. When he shifted away again, it was to settle his weight fully down on Aziraphale’s chest, their legs tangling together, and his head sank into the crook of Aziraphale’s shoulder. His nose tickled against the side of Aziraphale’s neck and the angel giggled softly, relaxing down into the lounger under Crowley’s weight. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered, his breath tickling the hairs on the top of Crowley’s head. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Anthony J. Crowley. Thank you for putting up with me, taking care of me, building a home with me, and…” his voice trailed off and Crowley shifted so he could cast a single eye over the angel’s face. There was just a hint of uncertainty there, and Crowley felt it tug on his heart. He knew well the causes of Aziraphale’s lack of confidence, and he was more than willing to meet the angel where he was and remind him that what they had together was real.

“I love you too,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s earlobe, drawing a squeaking giggle from the ticklish angel. Crowley relaxed back down, enjoying the way the sun was gently warming his back and the feel of his angel, safe and warm, beneath him. They lay together, enjoying their lazy afternoon in the sun.


End file.
